


No Stone Unturned 01: Something Stinks

by Omnitrix_12



Series: No Stone Unturned [1]
Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Humor, Mystery, Personal Growth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 20:08:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 65,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14576685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omnitrix_12/pseuds/Omnitrix_12
Summary: Following the arrest of Dawn Bellwether, the ZPD works to track down the remaining threads of her plot - and Judy Hopps is right in the thick of the action. Nick, meanwhile, tries to clear his way to get started with his new life, but his past won't let go of him so easily. Meanwhile, Judy's investigation is hampered by suspicious business tycoons, a new ringleader for Bellwether's renegade accomplices, and Chief Bogo's doubts about Nick.And yeah - there's a lot more.  Brace yourself for OCs, plot twists, and some unexpected run-ins with the past.





	1. A Knock at the Door

**Once upon a midnight dreary**

**While I pondered weak and weary**

**Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore;**

**As I nodded, nearly napping**

**Suddenly there came a tapping**

**As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door**

**"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "Rapping at my chamber door.**

**"Only this, and nothing more."**

_**The Raven,** _ **by Edgar Allan Poe**

Judy drove through the streets of the Nocturnal District, well below the surface of Zootopia's bustling metropolis. The underground district – more like so many catacombs, as it seemed to her – was lit by artificial lights as well as patches of glowing moss and fungus which leant eerie luminescence to the stone walls. She drove through great natural caverns of pale, flowing limestone, often connected by starker artificial passages of dim sandstone or even dark granite. These had more artificial lighting, and lacked the beauty – such as it was – of the larger caves. The very walls seemed to swallow up the light.

Some animals, she knew, found the caves very comfortable and picturesque. Certainly the foxes, occasional big cats, and other night creatures driving by her seemed to like living there, as did the bats which flew overhead and occasionally drove by. Judy, though, wasn't a cave mammal. Both by instinct and upbringing, she preferred either the limitless open sky or the inside of a building. The yawning ceilings that stretched into seemingly endless blackness overhead, and the winding passages which gave so many corners around which to hide, didn't suit her very well. Not for the last time, she wished she could have brought Nick along, but Nick was at the courthouse trying to clear his way to enrolling at the Police Academy. Even by the standards of a guy who ripped off mob bosses, it was a gamble lest anyone do as thorough a background check on him as she had done. Even if Nick had been free, Chief Bogo had been very clear that this was to be a solo operation; just a quick Q&A. He didn't really expect much to come of it, but Judy had proven herself already at following thin leads – and wriggling out of tight binds in the PR department. Things were already in a muddle at City Hall, and word was that the object of this assignment had enough connections to make things difficult for anyone on her bad side, even the ZPD.

After a number of turns this way and that, she came to a gated tunnel with a speaker built into one wall. She reached out and pushed the call button next to the speaker.

"Name, please," said a voice through the speaker. The voice was deep and had a growl in it; definitely the tone of a predator.

Judy leaned out the window to answer. "Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD."

There was a pause. "There is no invitation listed for a Judy Hopps."

Judy rolled her eyes. "Did you miss the 'Officer' and 'ZPD' parts? I'm here to talk to Olivia Poisson."

Another pause, and then the gate opened. "Drive in," growled the voice.

She did, with the distinct impression that this was not going to be a very cordial interview.

* * *

About a half-mile beyond her, in a gothic mansion built up against the wall of a large cavern, the mammal to whom she had spoken turned from an intercom and caught the shoulder of a passing raccoon. They stood in a massive great hall, interspersed with ornate pillars and carpeted in luxurious patterns. The whole place was a bustle of activity, with all manner of night creatures setting up tables, putting out food, and attending to countless details. Olivia D. Poisson was preparing for a party.

"Someone is coming to see Miss Poisson," the larger mammal reported, pivoting the raccoon to face him. "An officer from the ZPD; Judy Hopps. Tell her."

The raccoon balked. "Sir, she's not to be disturbed. She's, well... preparing"

"I know what her schedule is." Patience wasn't one of the larger mammal's qualities. "Miss Grey will be there to take messages. Tell her, and she'll tell Miss Poisson. Now get going."

His shoulder suddenly freed with an abrupt push, the raccoon collected himself and scurried off to heed the order. Poisson’s butler – the one who had addressed him – was also her chief of security, and further questioning of his orders would be… unwise.

* * *

Miss Poisson was in one of the upper rooms of her sizable mansion, getting ready for the party just two hours away, when a knock came at the door. "Miss Poisson!" called an earnest male voice.

The striped skunk retreated behind a privacy screen as calmly as though she had expected the knock before the raccoon had. "Answer it," she told Lillian Grey, her head maid. The spotted skunk was young enough to be Olivia's daughter, but no one would have known it. She was mature for her eighteen years, very capable, and as close to a best friend as Olivia had; indeed, some would have said as close as anyone could be when Olivia and a paycheck were involved.

The young skunk quickly bustled to the door and opened it just enough to poke her head out. "Miss Poisson is busy," she reported unnecessarily. Her voice was free of any accent, but bore the mein of a British maidservant.

The raccoon, dressed in an immaculate bus boy uniform, was breathing hard as he nodded, having run halfway across the mansion and up two or three flights of stairs. "I know, ma'am, but I was told to tell her at once that there's an officer here from the police to see her." Remembering the name mentioned to him, he added, "Miss Judy Hopps."

Lillian jerked her head back and blinked, surprised at the news.   _Judy Hopps is coming here?_  she thought in disbelief. Like just about everyone in the city, she knew that name well from the news. Most police officers didn't attain celebrity status – in fact, they made all efforts to avoid it – but after the case she had solved there was little avoiding publicity.

Still stunned, the young skunk turned back to the room. "Miss Poisson?" she called.

"I heard," came Olivia's voice from behind the screen. Calmly, she related a series of instructions, mostly about the party (of all things). Then she finished with, "Have Officer Hopps park on the north side and escort her to my office; the one for private interviews. I'll meet her there soon."

Lillian relayed the instructions to the raccoon, who made off to see to them at once. Closing the door, the young skunk turned to see Olivia emerge from concealment, busily changing her attire.

"Help me out of this," she instructed. "This party dress is nothing for a meeting with an officer."

"Yes, Olivia." Of all the staff, only Lillian had the privilege of calling the lady of the house by her first name, though even she didn't do so in front of temporary help like busboys. As she helped with the back, she asked, "What would Judy Hopps be coming here for?"

"You should know as well as I do," Olivia answered, browsing her wardrobe and selecting a much more formal gown. "What with all that's been happening, it was only a matter of time before the ZPD sent someone knocking on the door – though I am not pleased that they chose to do it at this hour."

* * *

Judy was greeted at a wide circle in front of the mansion by a tall, canine-looking figure whose features were hard to make out, backlit as they were by the house itself. The scent, however, was unmistakable: hyena.

"Pull around to this side," the same voice that had greeted her on the intercom instructed. The hyena pointed one finger and one arm straight out like a signpost. Apart from the obvious difference in size, he sounded and acted a lot like Chief Bogo in one of his, ‘Who cares; just don’t annoy me’ moods. "I will take you to see Miss Poisson."

Judy did as she was advised, taking stock of the place as she did. It looked as though it were being set up for a party, though the ribbons and banners that festooned the walls were far more deliberate and less jolly than any she’d seen. The house was whiter than the limestone around it, and of an elaborate style resembling a palace with lofty pillars and intricate carvings around the doors and windows. The pallid walls, tiled with marble, struck an odd contrast to the gothic architecture. She did a quick once-over of the gargoyles on the roof, with the eerie feeling that some of them were more than statues.

 _Get ahold of yourself, Judy,_  she thought. She didn't know it, but many high-end places in the Nocturnal District had cameras hidden in statues – and rumor had it that Miss Poisson also sometimes hired bats to disguise themselves and keep watch.

Oblivious to all of that, Judy followed the figure's instructions. Once she got around to the side of the mansion where the lighting wasn't such an issue, she could see the figure better. Contrary to the usual rough-and-ready look, this hyena's hair was combed back and slick with gel – no doubt one of the many Pwasson's Passion varieties, if the hint of Night Howler hanging about him was any clue. She’d heard somewhere that female hyenas actually tended to be stronger than males, but this one seemed plenty strong in his own right. His tailored suit bulged, making no effort to disguise the muscles beneath, and a well-outlined jaw boasted the species' formidable biting strength. Of course, hyenas didn't go around biting anyone much these days, but Judy was still well aware that this guy could easily, and literally, crush her skull with his hands tied behind his back if he wanted to. She reminded herself that he’d have to be pretty reckless to go after a police officer, and that this was strictly a Q&A visit, so there was no reason to be overly cautious. All the same, her paw unconsciously slid to the holster on her belt where her taser hung at the ready.

The hyena, either unaware of or unimpressed by her mental preparation, raised a hand and flicked his index finger, beckoning her with the least expended energy he could manage. "This way," he told her. "Miss Poisson is busy, but she's taking the time to meet with you." His tone implied that she should be grateful for the courtesy and that, if it were up to him, he wouldn’t bother.

"Much appreciated," Judy replied brightly, putting on a facade of energy and eagerness.  Normally she had no problem being that way for real, but both the building and the butler were putting her ill at ease. That, the drive to the mansion, and her expectations for the meeting ahead made it harder than usual to act in a cordial manner. It definitely didn’t help when the hyena just gave a muffled “harrumph” from deep in his throat. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries, real or fake.

The hyena led Judy up several flights of stairs to a spacious, well-lit office. The furnishings were impeccable; wood paneled walls hung with paintings and tapestries, an antique desk in spotless condition, a fire burning in a fireplace (no small mark of status, when chimneys in that district had to be carved upward through bedrock to the surface), and a loveseat facing a sizeable armchair, both upholstered in velvet. Several potted plants adorned the room; a few small trees, but mostly flowerpots full of Night Howlers. On the loveseat, with the air of a queen on her throne, was Olivia Poisson.

The skunk wore a dress resembling a Victorian-era evening gown, with a pleated skirt reaching down to her paws, long sleeves, and a collar which covered most of her neck. The fabric, which was of a pine green shade, was embroidered with patterns of vines and flowers, and a simple gold necklace set with diamonds hung around a neck which was unusually slender for a skunk. Yet it was not how she was dressed that caught Judy's attention.  Rather, it was her expression. The look on Poisson's face reminded her of the hyena who was at that moment leaving; not overtly hostile, but none the less commanding – if not demanding – respect. Next to the love seat and a little behind it stood another skunk, this one of the spotted species and wearing a much less elaborate green dress with no jewels. Her expression was passive, though the angle of her shoulders suggested just a hint of apprehension as if she wished this whole situation weren't happening.

Olivia gestured to the armchair. "Please, have a seat." Her voice, though soft and low, was as commanding as her expression, and had a touch of French accent to it – though the impression it generated smacked more of Transylvania. Poisson spoke with a smooth, level, lulling tone which called to mind a hypnotist Judy had once seen perform on stage.

Shaking off her paranoia, the rabbit walked to the chair and jumped into it, taking care not to scratch or track on the velvet. Although she didn't think a civilian – even one of Olivia's status – would take issue with a law officer over a chair, she suspected that the article of furniture cost more than she made in a month.

"Do excuse the size," Olivia added, hinting that she seldom conducted such interviews with individuals the size of a footstool. Judy found this somewhat ironic, since Olivia herself wasn't that much taller than she was; tall by skunk standards, maybe, but no bigger than, say, Nick. The chair in which Judy herself sat gave the impression that the last mammal to interview in this office was more of the tiger size.

Olivia continued, unaware of Judy’s rumination. "If I'd had more notice I could have prepared better. Would you care for something to drink?"

"No thanks, I'm fine."

"Very well." Olivia put her hands together, her fingertips raised like a steeple. "Now, I think I know why you have come," she said, opening the discussion. "I can only assume this is something about your recent case, Miss Hopps?"

Judy cleared her throat. "Yes. I came by to ask you a few questions – and by the way, I prefer Officer Hopps."

Olivia looked as if she were thinking about calling Judy 'Miss Hopps' again just to irritate her, but she didn't put it into words. "So be it," she agreed, "although I think I know the nature of your questions already. Let me save you some time.  Yes, my company makes considerable use of Night Howler extract as a key ingredient in our many hygienic products. Yes, I know what the extract is capable of in high dosages... and in the hands of fools," she added as an afterthought. "However, neither my company nor its products are in any way related to the recent drugging scheme. You wasted your time coming here."

If there was one thing Judy didn't like, it was others acting like they could just read her mind. The fact that Miss Poisson had been exactly right didn't make it the least bit better. Still, she kept her cool. "I'm just doing my job. If the Night Howlers aren't affecting anyone, then what do you use them for?"

"I didn't say that they did not affect anyone," Olivia answered calmly, as if speaking to a child. "I merely said that they were not causing animals to go savage." An odd look crossed her face, and she made her next remark with what might have been a note of humor. "At least, not in the way of which you are thinking. The concentration is far too weak for that, and I have gone to great lengths to keep it that way."

"So what do they do?" Judy wanted to know. "What do you mean, 'not the way I'm thinking of?"

Olivia reached out and picked up a pot of the flowers on a table next to the loveseat. She held them up and studied them, turning the pot this way and that. "My father, the founder of Pwasson's Passions, was an expert in the study of these plants; perhaps the best to the present date. He knew their more dangerous properties, of course. In fact, he even helped to create an enhanced version of the then-quite-lacking antidote for those under their effects." She paused, as if to let Judy consider that this meant her father was to be thanked for the recovery of those same creatures who had recently been drugged. "He also realized, however, that with the proper management, the flowers' extract could also be used for aromas, confidence, and even… _romantic_ purposes."

"You mean you  _are_  drugging your customers?" asked Judy, incredulous that the skunk would so quickly admit that. It couldn't be that easy.

"No more so than someone who sells coffee," Olivia reasoned. "The effects of Night Howlers are a key selling point of Pwasson's Passion. It has been so from the start, and the essence is carefully controlled to ensure no negative effects."

Judy scratched out a few notes in her notebook. "What about an overdose?" she asked.

Olivia shrugged. "Water is deadly if you overdose," she reasoned dismissively, "and anyway, with how weakened the essence is, first of all someone would have to  _drink_  our products to get an overdose of Night Howler. Secondly, even in the case of our new line of mouth rinses – which, by the way, have been substantially delayed due to the fiasco – it is so weak that the other ingredients combined would poison someone long before they got enough of the floral extract into them to have any side effects. In other words, no one could go savage from a Pwasson's Passion product if their life depended on it."

"And your testing is, I assume, up to scratch?"

Olivia snorted as if the rabbit had just insulted her mother or committed some equally passé slight. "Ask any state inspector,” she answered carelessly. “I'm sure they've all come through. Quality has been a hallmark of this business from the beginning. Father and Mother personally tested many of Father's formulae before selling them to the public, and they are still well and active – as are the standards they established."

"Well, it's nice to know you take the public's safety so seriously," Judy answered insincerely. "All the same, I'd like to do a little checking up. I have to, you know, for my report. Could you provide me with a list of your suppliers; intake, output...?"

Miss Poisson folded her arms, seeming to take this as a serious investigation for the first time since they had started talking. "Do you have a warrant?"

Judy bit the inside of her cheek. "Not really. I could get one, but it would probably go a lot better for you if you just cooperated."

The skunk stared coolly at her for a long moment, clearly unimpressed by 'it would probably go a lot better for you.' "If you must know," she said at last, "barring unforeseen demand, Pwasson's Passion produces its own Night Howlers to ensure the best quality and to eliminate the hassle which comes from inter-company negotiations. We own several farms for that very purpose on the outskirts of Zootopia."

Seeing that the skunk was stonewalling, Judy decided to try a slightly more 'good cop' approach. "And is it possible that someone might have made off with some of your crops?"

"Unlikely. Several of the farms are located by residential areas, and no one on earth knows better than I how powerful the flowers can be – except perhaps the unfortunate victims of the recent poisoning." This last she added as an afterthought, her tone conveying neither sympathy nor guilt. "Let me assure you, the farms have the  _ _best__  security money can buy."

Again, her tone was ambiguous. Judy wasn't sure if Miss Poisson was saying that no one would be foolish enough to try to break into the farms or daring Judy to disprove that. The thought briefly came to mind that the skunk had somehow gotten wind of her dubious nighttime entrance into TundraTown Limo’s parking lot, although that info was strictly secret. She brushed aside the idea. "I see. Well just in case, I'd like copies of the records from your farms – purchasing, yields, sales – for the past couple of months, and a look around the farms if you don't mind."

The half-closed eyes looking back at her promised nothing – except more blockading. "I will provide you with the papers as a courtesy," she answered calmly. "If you wish to enter the farms, however, or tour any of my facilities, I'll expect your ticket to have a judge's signature."

_This one's a tough nut to crack,_  thought Judy.  _She's definitely hiding something._  "Thank you," she answered, doing her best to look less bothered than she was. "Your help is appreciated."

Olivia clearly didn't believe that for a second. Taking the skunk’s silence as a cue that their conversation was done, Judy got up to leave.

"Officer," Olivia called to her back, "I would like to ask you something."

"What's that?" Judy wanted to know, half-turning.

Olivia regarded her as calmly as ever. "I am not an expert on the police department," she admitted, "but something tells me they don't hire many rabbits. I assume you worked hard to earn your position, and that you were not just hired to fill the Mammal Inclusion Initiative's quotas."

Judy bristled, but did her best not to let the skunk see that she had hit a soft spot. "For your information, I was valedictorian of my class. Yes, I worked hard."

"I see. Then I can only assume you faced a great deal of species stigma, much as my father did. Perhaps, then, you will understand that I too have worked hard to continue the company he started, and to continue convincing the simpletons of the world that being a skunk does not limit one's options in life. Do you understand my purpose?"

The fact that Olivia had guessed correctly about her background and the trouble she'd gone to to get where she was did little to settle Judy's anger. "Yes, I see what you're getting at."

Olivia put a paw to her chin. "Then I am sure you will also understand that I am willing to go just as far to preserve my father's dreams as you have gone, and as far as you will ever go, to accomplish yours."

Judy's nose twitched. "Yes," she answered. "I do understand." She'd gotten the message, alright. Miss Poisson wasn't going to pull any punches if her corporation was on the line.

 _ _Well,__  she thought,  _ _I never did so well at pulling punches either.__  Then she remembered something else. "One other thing," she said, turning back toward Olivia with a slight edge in her voice. She didn't like to throw her weight around, but she felt the need to subtly remind Miss Poisson who was wearing the badge here. "What can you tell me about Doug Ramses?"

Olivia jerked as if she had stuck her finger on something sharp, and a brief look crossed her face; too brief to interpret if it had not been so intense. It was a look of absolute rage.

" _Doug Ramses,_ did you say?" she asked, speaking slowly and deliberately as she regained her composure. Though her face was once more calm, her voice carried an undertone which seemed to ask, _'Why do you speak of him as though he's still alive?'_

"That's right," Judy affirmed, sensing that she was on the trail of a strong lead.

Olivia turned to her assistant. "Lillian, if you would?"

The younger skunk dipped at the waist. "Of course." She left the room swiftly, but without a sense of hurry – as if she were just naturally accustomed to moving quickly.

Miss Poisson looked back at Judy, her eyes looking as though they were barely holding back a raging inferno. "Ramses once worked for my father," she explained. "Lillian is bringing you his file now, but to be brief, he was one of our leading chemists, second only to my father and myself. He was fired, and had the law allowed it we would have done much more."

"Why?" Judy leaned forward, ears perked. "What did he do?"

Medusa herself would have withered at the sight of the skunk's scowl. "It is all in his file, including much which may be news to you at the Police Department.” Clearly anticipating the question this raised, she added, “And you’ll find the reasons for that in there as well.”

Judy closed her mouth, restraining the question Poisson had just answered. "Sounds like a pretty thorough file," she remarked.

Olivia snorted and sat back, folding her arms. "I don't forget grievances such as he committed easily," she answered. Looking thoughtful, she added, "Nor do I forget favors – and I would consider it a personal one if, should you find Ramses, you would make his arrest as... unpleasant as possible."

Judy shook her head, choosing not to comment on the skunk’s unparalleled gall. "I don't modify arrest procedures," she replied. Then she thought back to the two times she had snagged Duke Weaselton. "Well, no more than I have to. I just do my job and bring 'em in."

"A pity," Olivia uttered under her breath. Then she turned her head as the door opened, and received the file from Lillian. She rose to her feet, crossed the room, and handed the folder to Judy. "In any case, this will get you started. I'll mail you the rest of what you've been promised as soon as possible." Glancing at the clock, she added, "Now if you have no  _ _objections,__  I have something to prepare for – and I am already behind schedule."

Judy accepted the file. "Thank you," she replied with as much sincerity as she could manage. With that, she left.

 _ _Her products may eliminate odors,__  she thought to herself,  _ _but something here__ _definitely_ _ _stinks.__

* * *

A short time later, back in Olivia's dressing room, the heiress voiced her thoughts to Lillian.

"If Judith Hopps wants to chase after Ramses, I can live with that. All the better if she brings him to justice – or as near as she dares. Still, I can't have interference with the family business, so I'll have to make certain she is... satisfied with the information she gets."

Lillian said nothing, knowing that whatever she thought, this was a business matter to Olivia. No matter what, Olivia _always_ won in the end when it came to business.

"Now then," said Poisson, studying herself in a mirror and making a few adjustments to her jewelry, "let's get back to the business of the evening. Enough unpleasantness for one evening; don’t you agree?"

This time, Lillian heartily agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may recognize this story, as I posted it previously on fanfiction.net (I'll try to get the chapters on here caught up). I'd like to thank my friends at ZNN, especially Pandora, for their encouragement and advice in getting this story up on here as well. Thanks also to AngloFalcon, and to everyone who has and will read this story. I had a great time working on the Nocturnal District and the OCs, and it's a pleasure to know people are enjoying my writing.  
> So, any thoughts on what Olivia might be up to?  
> I should explain one or two other things, just to avoid confusion. This story is set in the aftermath of the movie's main events. The ZPD, as you can see in this chapter, is trying to tie up loose ends, and Nick... well, you can guess some of it, I'm sure, but you'd better count on surprises too.  
> Oh, and for anyone wondering, "Poisson" is French, and is actually pronounced "PWASS-on," as hinted when the company's name is being used instead of that of the family. If you noticed its similarity to "Poison," however... well, I won't argue.


	2. An Informant of Interest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having had her run-in with Poisson, Judy moves on to her next matter of business. However, all is not as she expects - especially at the ZPD.

**Shall we their fond pageant see?**

**Lord, what fools these mortals be!**

**Robin,** _**A Midsummer Night's Dream** _ **by William Shakespeare**

Judy was only too glad to get back above ground, and she took a deep breath when she was at last back in the daylight. The clear sky and bright sun made a welcome change from the conditions down below. Even the air around her felt lighter and cleaner, and she rolled down the window to enjoy it. As unpleasant as the interview had been, the results weren’t so bad. _Promise of the farm’s records: check,_ she thought to herself, patting the carrot pen in her pocket. _Info on a major suspect: check. Annnd…_

She checked the clock.  _Even better; I'll make it to pick up Nick with time to spare._  That alone was enough to put a smile on her face. She and Nick were due to meet with Chief Bogo about getting him started on the road to being a cop.  _Who knows?_  she thought to herself as she merged onto a highway, heading for the edge of Meadowlands.  _H_ _e might even know something_ _useful_ _about Poisson._

Finding Nick proved to be something of a challenge. The area around the courthouse was a mess of mammals of every size and species. Many of them waved to her, recognizing her as the local hero. As much as all that attention bugged her at times, she had to admit it made for a nice change from the last time she'd been there. There had been several long lines of traffic ticket recipients, courtesy of her stint as a maid. Smiling at the change, Judy reflected that it really had been best that those days were short-lived – for everyone's sake.

Then she spotted the object of her search on a bench, snacking on a pawpsicle. He didn't seem to notice her as she pulled into the nearest parking space and honked.

"Hey Junior Detective!" she called, rolling down the window on his side.

"Hey, Carrots," he replied calmly, finishing off the last of the pawpsicle. The stick flopped a little as it protruded from his mouth like a toothpick or a bit of straw from the mouth of a country bumpkin.

Judy raised an eyebrow. "Really, Nick? On the way to meet Bogo?"

"What? I bought it – and yes, this one was legit," he added as he climbed in. At her insistence, he had abandoned his striped tie and Pawaiian shirt for a navy blue tie and a white shirt. The ensemble was generic enough to avoid being pretentious, but professional enough to subtly say, 'Hire me.'

Judy made for the highway, and Nick discreetly slipped the pawpsicle stick into his pocket after sucking out the last bit of flavor.

"You're not going to sell that off at a rodent construction site, are you?" asked Judy, glancing toward him with a smirk.

Nick tried not to let his reaction show.  _She_  is  _good_ , he thought. "For your information, I make pencil cups out of these in my free time," he told her.

She met his alibi with a raised eyebrow. "Uh-huh."

He rolled his eyes and pulled out the stick, preparing to throw it out the window.

"Littering's a $500 fine," she reminded him quickly.

He put it away again. "Fine," he said grumpily, folding his arms with a huffy air. "I'll keep it as a memento of how annoying you are."

"Ah, you know you love every minute of it," she quipped right back, throwing him a playful jab to the side. Then, getting serious, she added, "So, you feeling ready for a fresh start?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," he answered. Then, lest she ask how his time at the courthouse went, he asked, "So what was it you were doing again?"

"Investigating leads on the missing suspects from the Bellwether Conspiracy," she answered. "Got a promising one on Doug Ramses. You remember; the one in the gas mask?"

"How could I forget?" asked Nick. That five minutes had been the most almost-literally-heart-stopping period of his pretty crazy life.

"That reminds me," Judy went on, "you said you know everyone, right?"

He rubbed his knuckles on his shirt. "Everyone," he replied cooly. It was a _bit_ of a bluff, but he didn’t want to admit that.

"Including, say, Olivia D. Poisson?"

"Olivia Poisson..." he muttered, almost as if he were trying the name in his mouth like a wine expert studying a flavor. Then he stopped, and his green eyes popped. "Wait, as in Pwasson's Passion? _That_ Olivia Poisson?" She nodded, and he let out a low whistle. "Wow, you aren't leaving any stone unturned, are you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, mostly that she's one of the few mammals I  _don't_  know. They say she throws good parties, but even _I_ couldn't charm my way _into_ one."

Judy's expression fell.

"I mean," Nick went on, "I know a few rumors about her – like, say, that a reporter was involved in an 'accident' when he tried to do an expose on her, or that she buys controlling interests in companies around the country to keep a lid on competition... you know, things like that."

 _Not much to go on,_ thought Judy, but she asked anyway. "Anything substantial?"

He shrugged. "'Fraid not, Carrots."

Her long ears tried to droop behind her, but only ended up flopping against the head rest. "No, it's fine," she said half-heartedly. "Everyone's got limits."

Nick wished he could have helped more, but at least he'd kept the topic off of-

"So, how did things go at the courthouse?"

 _Darn it, she's good,_  he thought. The unvarnished truth was that his lawyer friend had been less than optimistic, but for Judy's sake he gave the cheerful version. "Well, I talked to a few friends, pulled a few strings, and..." he trailed off.

"And?" she pressed.

It was time to drop the other shoe. "And it looks like I can't get out of a charge of tax evasion unless a state judge orders my records sealed or expunged."

Judy winced. She knew the basics of sealed or expunged records, but since she hadn’t known any felons to speak of before moving to Zootopia, she lacked experience. "That's not easy, is it?"

"No, but it's not impossible. And since I happened to help save the city from going to you-know-where in a pawbasket, there's hope."

"Then you're in?"

"In the legalese version..." he switched tones of voice to an exaggerated impression of a stuffy college professor with a truly atrocious British accent. "It requires a formal recommendation to the state judge that said change or sealing of record be made, to be submitted by a local official of bladitty bladitty blah." Grinning, he added, "In English, I need an official to put in a good word for me with the judge."

Judy smiled. "Well, I just happen to know an official who'd be willing to do that."

Nick's smile dropped. "Uh, I kind of asked about that. Turns out you wouldn't cut it." He neglected to add that, thanks to the legal uproar of their recent escapade, very few of the officials with the clout to recommend him were in good enough standing at the moment. Fewer still would be willing to do it, especially without more of an explanation than he wanted to risk giving. He hadn't made it in the con-artist business that long by taking foolish chances, and he didn't expect to get out of it that way either.

"Oh."

He shrugged. "Well, like you said, everyone's got limits."

Their conversation was halted by a call over the radio. "Dispatch: we have complaints of an erratic driver on Route 9 southbound, just past Baobab. Over."

Judy picked up the radio. "Dispatch, this is Car 31. We're en route. Over."

"I thought we had an appointment with Chief Hornhead," Nick countered as Clawhauser's voice confirmed what Judy had just said.

Judy shrugged as she returned the radio to its hook. "It's on our way, and this shouldn't take long."

Nick shrugged right back and popped in some earbuds.

Judy was right. It was only a matter of minutes before the car came into sight, and she could see why someone had phoned it in. Every few moments the driver would veer one way or the other, and Judy plainly saw the wheels go across the yellow line twice. From her limited experience handling traffic (the time after the press conference had mostly been riot control) she surmised that the driver was distracted, but probably sober.

“Well, this one should have an interesting story,” she remarked, flicking on the flashers. Evidently the driver was not checking their rear view that often, because it took another minute before whoever it was abruptly signaled and pulled off to the shoulder.

Parking behind the suspected car, Judy radioed in the situation as per protocol before she hopped out and walked up to the vehicle. Once she got there, however, she discovered a problem: she couldn't reach the window. There was only a gap of a few inches between her ears and the bottom edge of the aperture, but it was enough to hide her from view – and if she backed out far enough to fix that, she'd be standing in the lane.

 _I seriously need to look into stilts,_  she thought, debating between the equal and opposite indignities of jumping up and down while she questioned the driver or simply knocking on the car door.

The driver saved her the choice by opening a window and looking out, obviously wondering where the cop who had pulled her over went. To Judy's surprise, it was a vixen with fur a few shades lighter than Nick's, and some very confused blue eyes that stared back at the cruiser.

"Down here," the rabbit called, surprised to see a fox driving a car so large. Mammals sometimes did drive cars outside their size range in Zootopia; it was, for one thing, a good way to avoid being overlooked and overrun by larger drivers. However, it was still unusual enough to raise an eyebrow.

The vixen whipped her head downward so quickly that she almost whacked her chin on the door. "Huh?!"

Judy folded her arms and tapped her foot, trying to look commanding in spite of her stature. "Are you aware that you crossed the yellow line at least twice, ma'am?”

"Oh! Um..." the vixen looked a bit dazed. As Judy had suspected, it wasn’t quite the same look as one would expect in someone buzzed. All it all, it more closely resembled a student in school who had been caught not paying attention. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I was singing along with some music, and I kind of..."

"Mm-hm," Judy nodded, holding up a paw. "License, please? And I'd like to see the registration too."

“Oh, right.” Looking embarrassed, the vixen handed over her license and disappeared, returning a moment later with the registration.

Nick pulled out his earbuds as Judy slipped back into the car to check the documents. "What's going on?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Distracted driving by the look of it. She was all over the road, but her breath and her story check out, so I think she’s at least clean."

As Judy did her work with the license and a tablet mounted on the dashboard, Nick noticed the vixen's picture on the little plastic card. More curious than anything else, he looked ahead and craned his neck towards the car itself. It was hard to see, but he'd had enough experience picking out details and body language – both key to his past lifestyle – to know that she was agitated. Judy was still staring at the screen and apparently annoyed with the slow signal, so on a whim he thought he'd get out and try to calm the lady down a bit.

Finally the tablet finished its search, and Judy studied the results. "Hm. Nothing major on her record..."

She turned to Nick, only to find him nowhere in sight. "Nick where did-?" Then she spotted him and smacked herself in the face. He was standing by the vixen's car, leaning one elbow on it in a very casual manner and chatting with the occupant.

Judy thought about reading him the riot act, then decided to try a more subtle approach. She walked up behind Nick, who was in the midst of asking if the vixen – named Taelia, according to her license – was having car trouble.

"Okay,  _Junior Detective_ ," she chided loudly and clearly, "I'll take it from here."

Nick was plainly horrified as Taelia slowly asked, "Junior Detective?"

"Yes," Judy affirmed, stepping around Nick and nudging him with her hip. "Back to the car. I'll take it from here."

The look on his face was priceless. She knew she'd pay for it later, but for the moment she felt it was worth any revenge he might come up with. Besides, he  _had_  interrupted her traffic stop.

Nick was still annoyed with her when she got back to the cruiser. "Did you  _have_  to call me that in front... I mean, in public?" he complained.

She reached out and pinched his cheek playfully. "Oh, but you look so  _cute_  when you blush."

He pushed her paw away. "Ve-ry funny," he complained. "It's not fair to call me that if I'm not allowed to use that word about you."

Judy had to admit he had a point there. "Well, you'll be happy to know I let her off with a warning and the quickest test I could think of just for you,  _Junior Detective."_

Nick was groaning inside, but didn't feel like giving her the added satisfaction of hearing him do it out loud. "You know this is going to bite me on the off chance I bump into her later, right?"

She shrugged. "Well, then I guess getting you her phone number was a waste."

"That," Nick said pointedly, "is not very funny."

Judy just hummed cheerfully to herself.

"Uh, Carrots," Nick ventured, "you  _were_  joking, right?"

In response, the rabbit jerked her head as if she had been startled. "Oh, clumsy me!" she said in an exaggerated tone. "I left the tablet unlocked with all her information."

There was no time for Nick to think or do anything except feel a sense of 'Shoot!' as Judy reached out and pushed a button on the device, closing the screen.

"Okay," he complained, "that was just mean."

Nick would have let the matter go, but just before they reached the station a love song came on the radio. Naturally, that meant that Judy couldn't resist another round of teasing. So, instead, they arrived arguing at the front desk.

"What's going on?" asked Clawhauser, pausing in the middle of a box of doughnuts.

Judy smirked as Nick gave her a 'Don't you say a word' look. "Oh, just having a little fun with Junior here about his new girlfriend."

Nick dragged a paw down the center of his face. "She is not my girlfriend, and would you stop calling me Junior?"

The cheetah's expression fell. "Nick and a girl?"

"A vixen I pulled over," Judy went on relentlessly. Then, out the side of her mouth in a fake-discreet tone, she added, "Not a bad find for a guy like him, either."

Before Nick could express his indignation at the 'guy like him' part, Clawhauser's face dropped. "Aw, there goes the bet with Bogo," moaned the cheetah.

"What bet?" Judy and Nick chorused.

"Well, I bet Bogo that you two would end up dating. He didn't believe it. 'Officer Hopps is trying to get that fox instated as an officer,' he said. 'Wouldn't be so unprofessional' he said. Oh, and something about a policy, maybe."

Judy and Nick both stared at one another. "Well," Nick remarked, speaking for both of them, "that's... just too bad."

"Okay, seriously?" asked Judy as they continued toward Bogo's office. "Is that what everyone thinks?"

"Well don't sound so insulted," Nick countered, folding his arms and putting an edge in his voice.

Judy instantly repented of her tone. "Sorry. I just..." she paused. "I don't know. Does everyone think because we hang out, we're automatically a couple or something? We've hardly even known each other that long."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Well, you just told Clawhauser that Taelia was my girlfriend, and I talked to her  _once._  So how is it unfair for people to make assumptions because a handsome fox is hanging around with a c-"

Judy's paw shot out and wrapped around Nick's muzzle. "Don't say it. We're even."

"Yuh th moff," he mumbled before she let go. With his mouth free, he added, "And I was going to say 'cop.'"

Judy's frown diminished by a tiny fraction, so Nick continued. "Besides, Bogo doesn't think we're a couple. He even said  _you_  were too professional for that."

"That's true." This brightened Judy's mood considerably. A compliment from Chief Bogo was like a shooting star – rare, and likely to be missed if you took the time to blink. "Maybe he thinks making us partners would work out after all."

Not two minutes later, Bogo lowered a folder to his desk. "Sorry, but I don't think it would work out."

"What?" cried Judy, flattening her ears. "But Chief, he helped me solve the biggest case this city's seen in at  _least_  ten years."

"Fifty, actually," acknowledged the water buffalo, adjusting his reading glasses. The general austerity of the office seemed to amplify his own grim tone, and what sunlight came through the closed blinds backlit his already considerable frame. It reminded Judy of the hyena from Miss Poisson's residence. "However, I ran a background check on Mr. Wilde here..."

Nick's already bothered expression fell into one of sprouting despair.

"And I turned up a few... suspicious things in his financial history." He tapped a stack of papers in one hand meaningfully. "It's nothing concrete, but this was only a preliminary check. If there  _is_  anything of interest, the full background check is sure to turn it up – and you know the academy checks potential recruits very thoroughly."

Judy knew that, but Bogo picking up on it was something she'd hoped to avoid. Fortunately, she had a loophole. "True," she admitted, "but if he works that out with a judge, he can still get in."

Nick, taking that as his cue, produced several papers and put them on the desk in front of Bogo. “Tackled most of it today,” he explained. “All I need is a few signatures, and the problem is over.”

Bogo adjusted his glasses again and glanced at the forms. "True, but to get that through you'll need someone high up to vouch for you. City Hall is in a muddle, and the only other official who can recommend an override at the moment..." he smiled meaningfully, "...is me."

Now Nick looked positively ill.

"Right now, I'm doing you a favor just not bringing out the handcuffs," Bogo went on, looking squarely at the fox. Technically that was a bluff, unless he'd understated the amount of evidence he had on Nick, but the point was clear. "If I'm going to recommend you for this line of work, though, it's going to take a little more than that."

"More than helping save the city?" asked Judy incredulously. "What's he _supposed_ to do, stop an asteroid?"

Bogo regarded her with a stony gaze. "I'm sure you'll think of something. Now, Officer Hopps, I think you have a case to get back to."

Judy huffed. "Fine.  _We_  have a case to get back to."

Nick was quick to follow on Judy's heels out the door, lest Bogo decide to change his tone in for an even worse one.

Bogo was only left alone for a minute before Judy poked her head back in.

"By the way," she added crossly, "you might as well know you won the bet with Ben."

This news pleased Bogo just a little. "Well, maybe after a few days without doughnuts he'll be able to catch someone."

Judy winced.  _Clawhauser bet his doughnut supply that Nick and I were a couple?_  she thought. She briefly considered arranging a date with the fox just to spare the chubby cheetah, but realized that if word got back to Bogo – which would kind of be the point – it would add a whole new layer of suspicion to his already dim view of vouching for Nick.

 _Sorry, Ben,_  she thought to herself.  _It's for everyone's good._  She hated to think the next part, but it was right there.  _...including yours, I guess._

Since Nick wasn't a recognized member of the ZPD, regulations hindered Judy from using the office areas to go over notes with him. Instead, she chose one of the interviewing rooms: quiet little isolated rooms, loosely similar to the ones for grilling suspects in that they were soundproof and were monitored on closed-circuit television. The presence of potted plants and windows, and the lack of a two-way mirror, helped to make them feel more pleasant – which was kind of the idea. The interview rooms were generally used for private talks with witnesses, and occasionally in efforts to coax less problematic suspects into coming clean.

"Okay," said Judy, climbing into a chair at the desk in the middle of the room. She opened the folder, skimmed its contents briefly, and then divided the stack through the middle like a card player cutting the deck. "You look through those, and I'll check these out. Let me know if you find anything interesting."

It didn't take long for either of them to find something worth that label. Judy soon discovered that Doug Ramses was literally an evil genius. Tallying with what they had seen in the lab, he was both a brilliant chemist and a skilled machnist. He'd fine-tuned most of the equipment and methodology used to concentrate the extract; sometimes so much that there were notes on his designs like, "Rejected. Danger level too high."

"Wait, they were  _concentrating_  the stuff?" asked Nick, pricking his ears when Judy mentioned this. "I thought you said it was carefully diluted."

"That was Olivia's story," Judy answered doubtfully. It wasn't a solid case for her either, though. Even if the stuff was diluted in the finished product, it would make sense for them to concentrate it for storage and perhaps other stages in the process. Heck, juice companies often did the same thing. Still, it was clear enough at least that  _Pwasson's Passion_  factories – and perhaps other facilities – did have places where they stored heavy concentrations of night howler serum. It also confirmed that working for them had taught Ramses much about how to handle the flowers and their derivatives. Most likely, that was how he knew how to grow them so successfully in a subway tunnel, of all places.

Judy, in turn, was pulled from her study when Nick let out a low whistle. "Yikes. No wonder she hated the guy."

Judy looked up. Nick's eyes were wide as he stared at his own collection of info. "What is it?" she asked.

He glanced up at her. "You don't want to know."

"Tell me."

He paused for a minute. "Remember your reaction to the Mystic Spring Oasis?"

Judy cringed. "Mind bleach, please." Then, more skeptically, she added, "Is there really something like that in there?"

"Only reports," he admitted, "but suffice it to say Ramses used his opportunities working for the family to get some… compromising material."

Judy's reply came slowly and reluctantly as, for the first time, she actually missed her days as a meter maid. True, real life was messy. She knew that. Still, 'messy' was one thing. 'I need a shower in the worst possible way' was another story. "So, what kind of material are we talking about?"

"Nothing illegal – at least not for the Poiss…" he trailed off, studying something else. "Well, actually there is something here on the Poissons that would interest the ZPD," he added, handing her a page.

Judy surveyed the paper, and it didn't take long for the story to unfold. During his time as a chemist for Arthur Poisson (Olivia's father), Doug had managed to gain a great deal of the skunk's respect and trust. Then Arthur found out that Doug was stealing company secrets and threatened to have him arrested. The sheep, however, had an ace up his wool. During his time in the company, he had used his position to obtain some… well, as Nick had said, some compromising photos of the Poisson family. No actual photos were in the file, but the written information gave Judy reason to be glad for that lapse in Olivia's otherwise thorough record-keeping. Worse, Ramses had had them long enough that there was no telling how many copies he might have, and thus no guarantee of tracking down and destroying them all. Faced with the threat of his family being disgraced and his company losing its edge, Arthur had no choice but to let Doug Ramses off the hook.

Just as Judy was starting to wonder what Nick had meant, she got to the next part. Olivia's brother, Guseppe, learning that the files were stored digitally, had broken into Ramses' apartment. He brought along one of the company's top tech support consultants, hoping to hack his computer and figure out how serious the problem was. They were caught in the act, and Ramses threatened to have the young skunk arrested. With the two sides now in what amounted to a case of mutually assured destruction, Doug apparently decided he had all he needed and left the company soon after.

"Well," Judy remarked, "that explains why Olivia hated the guy so much."

"Yeah, but she just ratted out her own brother," Nick pointed out.

"Not really," Judy admitted, prodding the paper with a finger. "The statute of limitations on what Guseppe did is expired, so technically the police have nothing on him."

Nick exhaled. "Sly skunk," he conceded.

Unfortunately, the dossier contained no current information to help them track down Ramses as far as Judy could see; just more to add to his charges when they caught up to him. Fortunately – or at least Miss Poisson would no doubt think so – things like corporate espionage and blackmail carried longer shelf lives than attempted burglary.

"Well, you can still chase down the techie for attempted hacking," Nick pointed out when Judy mentioned this.

Judy shook her head. "We've got bigger fish to fry." She neglected to add that, after working with Nick despite his history, she'd feel a little divided chasing down someone who broke the law only to help someone the law wouldn't.

Nick shrugged. "I guess this explains what you said about Olivia Poisson's grudge against Doug," he noted.

" _If_ it's all true," she answered. She didn't want to trust Olivia too far. The skunk gave off too strong a case of bad vibes to be discarded so quickly as a suspect. She'd willingly implicated her own brother, albeit of an expired charge. If she and Ramses had been in cahoots, it would be no surprise for her to throw him to the sharks to save herself.

"Aren't you supposed to treat everyone as innocent until proven guilty?" asked Nick when Judy voiced this thought.

"Technically that's how the courts are supposed to work," she answered, letting her gut do the talking. The truth was, her mind knew Nick had a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you probably wonder why Taelia has such a large car. My logic, based on Nick and Judy’s outsize cruiser at the end of the movie (did anyone else wonder how Judy’s feet reached the pedals?) is that it would be too unusual for smaller mammals to drive larger cars modified to suit them. Sure, a larger car would cost more, but it would probably save a lot on insurance since larger cars would be harder to steal, vandalize, or for that matter run over. On the flip side, they would probably be easier to get fixed since a wider size range of mechanics could manage them. Taelia most likely drives a used car (which, by all I’ve heard, is generally the best option in any case) made for a mammal larger than herself but smaller than a yak. I’ll be touching on that subject later in this story, but a lot of people asked about it on fanfiction.net so I thought I’d explain it here ahead of time.
> 
> My readers on fanfiction.net were also a big help on the question of how two-way mirrors work. The glass is highly reflective in both directions, but if the light is brighter on one side, that side gets a mirror-like reflection of glare back. It’s kind of like if you use your computer with the screen dimmed and the sun behind you. The other side's glare, meanwhile, is blocked out by the light coming through, like if you close the blinds and brighten your screen. Consequently, which side is the mirrored side can be easily changed by adjusting the lighting - hence "two way mirror."  
> Keep those reviews coming, folks!


	3. A Question of Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Nick decides to pick the brains of some of his old associates, an old friend has doubts about his new loyalties.

This chapter proofread by AngloFalcon. Thanks a million!

 

" **Suspicion often creates what it suspects."**

**C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters**

Judy faxed the highlights of Ramses’ file to the city court, hoping to get a warrant on Olivia's factories and farms.

"Ah, the glamorous life of a cop," Nick quipped when she returned to the meeting room. He was leaning back in his chair with his arms folded behind his head and his ears at a lazy half-cocked sort of angle. "Traffic stops, paperwork..."

Judy huffed, dropping her ears back. "Nick, let's take this seriously, okay? Remember, this case could make or break your chances with the ZPD – and you already have a history that's got you at odds with Bogo."

"Funny you should mention that," he replied, tilting forward until his weight rested on his arms, which he crossed casually on the table. "You missed something; something big."

"What?” Judy looked around, pricking her ears up alertly as she tried to figure out what he meant. “Where?"

He studied his claws. "You're slipping, bunny," he teased, thoroughly enjoying the moment. "Got a guy right in front of you with networking skills that would put the internet to shame, and you need this explained to you?"

Judy's face lit up. "Let's go!" she exclaimed. She reached into her pocket for her cruiser keys, only to find them inexplicably gone.

Nick smirked and held up one paw, swinging the keys on a finger.

"Hey!" Judy snapped.

"Ha ha," he laughed. "Got-"

Suddenly the keys were in Judy's paw, and she had him by the tie. "You blinked. Come on, rookie – and stay out of my pockets."

"…cha."

Their first stop was a shopping plaza in Sahara Square, not far from the Palm Tree Hotel. According to Nick, the area was one of Finnick's favorite hangouts.

Sure enough, they found the van parked between a beverage shop (one of many in the area) and a thrift store. The former looked almost as if it had been carved out of a single piece of stone, with wavy walls in thin lines of strata in varied hues of red, yellow, and brown. Even the sign was carved from a slab of stone, with the letters carved down into a layer lighter in hue than that of the surface. About the only thing about it that looked like it hadn't come out of Baaadrock was a little sign with changeable letters reading, “Special of the Day: Coconut Water.” The thrift store was of more modern build with clean-cut cement walls, a neon sign, and a notice in the window that they were having a special on male clothing. Its effort to look new was somewhat spoiled, as the paint had suffered from wind-blown sand.

Judy glanced at Nick. "You must come here a lot too," she quipped, jerking a thumb at the sign in the thrift store.

The fox folded his arms. "I thought you ladies appreciated a good sale. Come on, let's go see Finnick before-"

A gust of wind peppered them both with sand.

"... the wind picks up?" asked Judy when it had died, leaving both of them looking a good deal more beige.

"Let the record show you slowed us down with the crack about how I dress," Nick pointed out as he strode to the back of the van and knocked. "By the way, duck."

"Why-YEE!?" yelped Judy, heeding Nick's advice just in time. The opening door was followed almost instantly by a swinging baseball bat.

"Easy, Finnick," Nick laughed, standing up straight again and catching the weapon before Finnick could do the back swing. "It's just me and Carrots saying hi."

"Nick? What the heck, fox! Give the password next time. I coulda took you out!"

Nick smirked. "Just giving Carrots her daily reflex check."

"Nick!" Judy cried, smacking him on the arm. "You didn't tell me he'd be so jumpy this time." She'd met Finnick and his bat before when she was trying to find Nick, but the last time he'd asked questions first and swung later – or rather, not at all.

"Oh, he's always a little grumpy this time of day." Nick raised a fist to bump with his old pal. "How you doing, buddy?"

Finnick put aside the bat, and the two foxes bumped knuckles. "So what you doin' here this time?" he wanted to know.

Nick shrugged. "Business," he replied casually. "Mind if we discuss it inside?"

The fennec fox threw a skeptical glance at Judy, then stepped back and waved them in.

Nick climbed in first, then extended Judy a paw which she passed up for dignity’s sake. "Thanks. By the way, proper introductions; Finnick, my little friend here's Judy Hopps, and Carrots, my  _very_  little friend here is Finnick."

Finnick glowered at Nick. "You're never gonna let that joke die, are you?” He apparently didn’t think it worth pointing out that he and Judy had already met.

Judy surveyed the van's interior as she chuckled at their banter. The seats had been pulled out, and most of the floor had been covered with shag carpet. The windows were tinted, making the whole interior feel cool and shaded – an effect which, combined with a few posters on the ceiling, conjured images of a night club or a college dorm room. A little electric cooler hummed in one corner, and a flat area with some loops in the wall alongside it, she guessed, showed where the foxes had once hitched the wagons for their popsicle sticks.

It occurred to Judy that she might have to re-think some of her habits. She might be working for the greater good, but could she really consider herself an honest cop if she consulted with known criminals? Then there was that business with Mr. Big; she'd have to figure her way through that too. On the other hand, this might not be the best time for it.

Finnick reached into the cooler. "What flavor pop you want?" he asked.

"Usual," Nick replied.

Judy wasn't even sure what brand of ‘pop’ Finnick meant, but decided to just follow Nick since he at least knew what they were doing. "Whatever he's having."

Finnick pulled out two bottles of blueberry soda and passed them to Nick before he pulled out a cherry one for himself. Popping the cap with his teeth, he extracted it by paw from his mouth and flicked it aside. "So," he asked, "Whatcha want?"

Nick used a small protrusion on the interior of the van to pop both caps, then handed one bottle to Judy. "Following leads on the fuss with ex-mayor Bellwether," he replied. "You know anything?"

"Who doesn't?" asked the miniature fox, still glancing warily at Judy. They hadn't talked much even when she came to ask him where Nick was less than a week before, and he was still cautious around her in light of her chosen occupation. "What kinda leads we talkin' here?"

Nick gestured to Judy, who took that as her cue to start talking. "Well, when Nick and I found the operation, we managed to apprehend Bellwether and two accomplices. At least three are unaccounted for, and we have reason to believe she had other suppliers besides the guy we also nabbed."

"Duke Weaselton," Finnick concluded.

"You know about that?"

Finnick smirked. "Fox-boy here's not the only one who keeps his ear to the ground." Catching the look on Nick's face, he added, "And I don't have to bend down so low to do it."

Nick pretended to be annoyed. "Darn it, you stole my joke."

"It's not stealing if it's worthless," Finnick quipped. "So you came here lookin' for information. Well, I got nothin' – not even for Nick."

Judy had a sneaking suspicion that the fennec wouldn't be so tight-lipped if she weren't around, but decided not to say anything.

"Well, would you mind keeping your ears open? Maybe getting into a few places we can't?" asked Nick.

From the look on Finnick's face, Judy was beginning to wonder if laughing at Nick's predicament when she forced him to help her was the only time the little fox ever smiled.

"I've been pretty busy just trying to keep gas in the van since you split the popsicle business," Finnick replied with a shrug. Then, seeming to lighten just a fraction, he added, "But I guess I could do you a favor for old times' sake."

Nick smiled. "Thanks, buddy – and talking of gas money, there's a reward out for any info leading to these guys' arrest." He handed Finnick a collection of photos of the known suspects, with a bill slipped in for good measure.

Finnick noticed the money, and he did smile a little. "Hey, copper," he asked Judy, "would you mind giving us a minute to ourselves? We've got catching up to do."

Judy got up and showed herself out. Finnick checked the window to see if she might be listening, then looked at Nick.

"So you've really thrown in with the fuzz, huh?"

Nick had been afraid it would come to this. The truth was, he still wasn't entirely sure about the career change – and between Bogo's remarks earlier and what he expected his old friend was about to say, his limited confidence was slipping. "I'm helping her out," he said evasively. "Being an informant has its benefits."

"To the tune of $200 a day?" asked Finnick, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, Nick. Only fools go into that for the cash, and they usually don't last long, if you get my drift."

 _Thank you for summing that up,_  thought Nick. He already knew all too well that there were several crime bosses who'd gladly give him the same kind of 'cold shoulder' Mr. Big nearly did. Still, he wasn't about to let his guard down. "Hey, Carrots thinks I can make it."

"You mean she thinks you can change," Finnick argued, "or that  _she_  can change  _you_." He spoke with absolute confidence that this was what Judy had planned. There was no question in his mind that the bunny was trying to make some kind of convert out of Nick. "The question is, do you want that?"

Martial artists sometimes practiced the trick of wearing their opponent down with a series of small, well-placed blows to throw off their balance before toppling the foe. Finnick, intentionally or not, was applying much the same approach to their conversation.

Nick, however, was no slouch when it came to verbal MMA either. "Are you worried about  _me_  changing," he asked pointedly, "or are you worried about  _us_  changing?"

That gave Finnick pause. Of course there was the fact that, if he did become a cop, Nick might be required one day to arrest Finnick. Another aspect of their dilemma, however, went deeper. There was a certain truth among those involved in unscrupulous business, which nearly all of them knew but few ever admitted, even to themselves. No criminal had anything against those who engaged in honest professions – provided that the profession in question didn't get in the way of the crook's line of work. At best, the criminal could laugh at the honest folks behind their backs, fancying himself to be of a higher class who did not let themselves be confined by society's concepts of right and wrong. He might convince himself that if the lowbrows working nine to five had the imagination, the guts, or the intelligence to hack it outside the law, they'd do it in a heartbeat, or tell himself that they simply didn't know what they were missing. At worst, they could be shrugged off. 'Nice that they can live without breaking the rules,' the crook might say, 'but it's not for me.'

Finnick had never been especially good at such defense mechanisms. Mammals like Nick – mammals who had lived in the dark and then embraced the light – made it harder still. They presented an uncomfortable reality: honest living was possible for anyone, if they were willing to do it. When it was someone talented and sly like Nick, the old lie that crooks were in any regard superior to everyday Joe Schmoes fell apart. A crook who went straight was like one of those guys in advertisements who said, 'If I can do it, you can do it,' and they inexorably begged the question: 'So why don't you?'

Deep down, Finnick was not as comfortable with his life as some crooks as many others in society’s underbelly. His conscience was burned somewhat, but not ‘seared with a hot iron’ as his old mother would have said. Maybe that was what stopped him from considering this a personal blow; an attack not just on his career, but on his identity. Still, the pragmatic question remained. "And what if the big cheese tells you to bring me in, huh?" he asked.

Nick shook his head. "I can figure that out when I get to it," he argued. "The police haven't thrown me a mess yet that I couldn't slip out of."

Finnick folded his arms. "Until now, you didn't play their way."

The conversation didn't really go much of anywhere beyond that, and finally Nick just let his shoulders slump. "Look, buddy, this doesn't have to change things between us. Even if we're not in business anymore, we can still be friends, right?" He stuck out his paw to shake.

Finnick hesitated, then shook Nick's paw. "Alright," he conceded. "But you come here with pawcuffs..."

Nick's smile suddenly fell into a dead serious expression. "That's not gonna happen," he promised.

Each of them knew full well that they were making promises they might not be able to keep.

Meanwhile, somewhere in Olivia Poisson's house, a cell phone rang. The owner picked up. "What is it?"

"Judge just got a warrant request on Pwasson's Passions," answered a shaky voice.

"Is that so? Has the judge seen it yet?"

"No. The fax came while she was out of the office."

A grim sigh – possibly weary or possibly content – came through the phone line. "Very good. I'm sure you can file it... appropriately."

"Consider it done." Just before the call ended, there was the sound of a paper shredder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now who do you suppose that was?  
> Special thanks for this chapter go to my friend ArmedKevin117 (I dont know if he has a profile on here, but he uses that name elsewhere) and AngloFalcon for proofreading, and to Roboboogie for his interest and information on chemistry and police work.


	4. The Unwelcome Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A detour to Tundratown yields some nice views... and a not-so-nice run-in.

“ **You’re such a bad boy, not trusting little old Cubis. Haven’t I been everything an evil underworld creature should be?”**

**Cubis, _Angel Wars_**

 

After touching base with a few other residents of Sahara Square, they decided to drive over to Tundratown and see Mr. Big. The transition from blazing hot desert sand to freezing cold snow stunned Judy a little even though she expected it, but Nick pretty much took it in stride. After all, he used to make that switch with Finnick every day of the week.

Stopping at a red light, Judy took a moment to admire the goings-on in a small park just off the road. Out on a frozen pond, two young bucks – a deer and a rabbit, respectively – were trying to master ice skates with comical degrees of non-success. Not that far from them, a snowball fight between a snow leopard and a bison brought a smile to her face at the sign of recovery after the Night Howler scare. A ways off to the left, a pup who looked to be part wolf and part dingo lobbed a snowball at a tree, dumping a small avalanche on three pups who must have been his sisters. At least, Judy guessed that from the one set of mismatched parents rushing to the scene of the misdemeanor. On a playground towards the right, a young otter dressed in green and red rode a slide while a lemming in red and blue rode him like a surfboard.

A car horn behind her informed her that the light had changed, but not before she caught one last glimpse of warmth amid the ice and snow. A young beaver, tag-teaming with a tiger, was building what looked to be some kind of snow mammal. Judy couldn’t be sure what species it was supposed to be, but it had two heads – one with three eyes – and a third arm in the middle of its chest. It reminded her of ones she had seen some of her brothers build, come to think of it.

_Jordy would probably be taking notes,_ she thought, smirking at the memory of some of his ‘masterpieces.’ By popular opinion in the Hopps household, Jordy was to be thanked (or blamed) for all the nice trees their neighbors had planted on the property line.

“What is it with guys and weird snow mammals anyway?” she asked out loud.

When Nick made no quick reply, she glanced his way. His mouth was a flat line, devoid of either sorrow, mirth, or even his usual confidence. It bothered her.

"You okay, Nick?" she asked.

He blinked as if he had just woken up. "Huh?"

She focused on the road, but kept glancing at him out the corner of her eye. "You seem different."

Nick shook his head. "Ah, just remembering the old days."

“Heh.” She smirked. "You mean about three to four months ago."

"Well, yeah," he admitted.

She reached over and nudged him reassuringly with a fist. "Relax, Nick. Finnick needs a little time to adjust to this, but I'm sure he'll come around."

Nick wished he was so confident. Judy didn't know Finnick like he did. The little guy was tough as nails and had a mean streak that would put a wolverine to shame if you got him mad enough. Still, Nick's breaking up the act had hit the little guy in the two places it hurt most: his budget, and his sense of loyalty. Life was tough enough for foxes, let alone pint-sized fennecs. Ever since the two of them had joined forces, Finnick had had three ways of responding to... well, to being cornered like he must have felt he was now. Those methods had been to outsmart his adversary, team up with Nick, or – if all else failed – lash out. This time, though, Plan A wasn't an option; Nick had, in all modesty, always been just a few watts brighter and a few shades more creative than Fin. Besides, most of what Finnick had in those departments was less tactical and more practical. Squeezing all that gear into the back of a minivan was no sweat for a brain like his, but talking his way around the law… not so much. That was one option down. Plan B was obviously out, especially if (gulp) Nick was ordered to arrest him one day. Now Plan C... well, Nick knew deep down that Finnick wouldn't have it in him to turn violent against his old partner in crime. He also knew that if he was ever proven wrong about that, it would be no contest. Nick's brain was a formidable weapon, but physically, he was useless in a fight – especially against old friends.

"I hope you're right," he admitted. After a moment's pause, he added, "Look, the police wouldn't tell a cop to arrest a friend, right? That's gotta be... I don't know, conflict of interest or something."

Judy frowned. It was true, the police _would_  try to find someone else –  _if_  they knew the foxes were friends. Divulging that information, however, could only hurt Nick's chances at becoming an officer. Besides, they might involve Nick anyway on the basis of his usefulness in setting up a sting. She had read about that in the material at the academy, and until now it had all been just words on a page. Looking at it now, she realized it cut a lot deeper than that – and for the first time, a tiny part of her brain wondered if Nick actually had it in him to make it as a cop.

She was yanked out of her thoughts as the car suddenly began to swerve. Instantly tensing, she fought her instinctive reaction to slam on the brake or fight to correct her course. The best thing, she knew, was to ease off the gas and ride out the swerve. She had learned the method from a show about hurricanes, though experience had also proven its usefulness on snow and ice.

Unfortunately, even the best methods sometimes went awry. The car lurched off the road and plowed nose-first into a snow bank, flinging her and Nick against their seat belts with a yank.

"Oh, sweet cheese and crackers," she muttered under her breath.

Nick, seeing that neither of them were injured, instinctively tried to put a lighter face on things. “Ah. Well, you could've gone into the traffic instead," he observed. He pointed left through the cars now going around them to the oncoming ones across the road.

She sighed and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess that's true." She hit the blinkers, shifted into reverse, and tried to back out slowly as soon as a gap appeared in the flow of vehicles. The tires spun, but got nowhere.

"More gas?" Nick suggested, trying to be helpful.

She shook her head. "Worst thing I could do," she pointed out. "If the tires caught suddenly and shot us back out into the traffic-"

Her words were cut off by the rumble of a bus driving past; one made, as best they could judge, for any size passenger up to polar bears. Nick followed its progress and swallowed. "Yeah, I see what you mean." Okay, so he wasn't a rocket scientist at the wheel. There was a reason Finnick always did the driving when they had been partners in crime. He watched Judy try a few more times to get them out, then shrugged. "Well, lucky you've got me around." He unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling roadside assistance," he replied, clambering up the door to the roof. "I've got friends all over this part of town. Give it five minutes tops before one of them comes by."

Judy frowned. “The last time you introduced me to a friend in Tundra Town, he almost killed us.”

“Tuh. Picky picky.”

It was only two minutes before a car stopped behind them, flicking on its own blinkers. "See?" Nick called, his voice sounding through the roof. He had shut the door so Judy could stay warm. "The old Wilde card works every- aw, no."

"What is it?" asked Judy, instantly alert as she opened her door with one paw and checked her stun gun with the other. She expected a gang of hostile animals to come clamoring out of the car, intent on paying Nick back for some past hustle.

Instead, to her surprise, a posse of sultry-looking vixens, white as the snow around them, emerged. A passing wind carried mingled scents of perfume from them to Judy's nose, along with a touch of fur bleach. At a glance, they were all nearly identical; all of them wore black outfits which, though covering most of their bodies, didn't leave much guesswork on the shapes _of_ those bodies. They all looked to be wearing eyeliner, and when they blinked, most revealed eye shadow as well. One of them removed a pair of mirrored sunglasses – not unlike Nick's, though much sleeker in shape – and blinked lavender-lidded eyes at the fox on the roof.

"Nicholas Wilde," she remarked in a Russian accent as smooth as melted butter, "what are the chances?"

Nick gulped. _Not slim enough, apparently._ "Hey ladies. Hey... Vanya. Uh, mind lending us a paw?"

Nick briefly introduced the vixens as ‘the Angels,’ and Judy noticed that he introduced her to them as ‘Officer Hopps’ and not something less formal. The crew of females quickly surrounded the car, and with Nick and Judy they were all soon at work trying to get it loose. This wasn't an easy job, but it gave Vanya the chance to sidle up to Nick as they pulled and pushed.

"So, Naughty Boy, what have you been up to?" she asked. Tugging at the open frame of one of the doors, she somehow managed to purr even as she grunted. Judy, who was inside gently trying to coax the reverse gear into action, heard every word and scrunched her face at the phrase, 'Naughty Boy.'

Nick coughed. "Oh, uh, you know. Took some time off from the old hustle, looked into a few new ideas – the usual."

She smirked. "Always something new with you, darling. You know, _I've_ heard a rumor that _you_ are looking into law enforcement."

Judy glanced at Nick as best she could without actually turning her head. He was clearly uneasy. "Well, you know the song: try everything, right?"

This drew a low, almost musical chuckle from the vixen. "Always playing the dangerous games, Naughty Boy. That's what I always liked about you."

At the moment, Judy thought it was Vanya playing the dangerous game. "Hey," she said, trying to sound disinterested, "would you mind not whispering in the back? I'm trying to concentrate."

Mercifully, a passing arctic hare pulled over next with a towing hitch and offered his help. The Angels had to move their car, and Vanya was clearly annoyed to have her time with Nick cut off like that, but in almost no time the car was loose.

"Such a shame to part so quickly, Nick," she called. "Don't forget to call, alright?"

Nick shook his head. "Ancient history, Vanya," he called back, climbing into the car and closing the door.

The vixens left. The hare unhooked his car, tossed a salute to the two sleuths, and then departed as well. Judy glanced across at Nick. "Ex girlfriend?" she ventured.

He nodded. "And before you ask, she was too clingy and I’d rather not talk about it.”

Judy closed her mouth and frowned at him before returning her attention to the road. “I hate it when you read my mind,” she complained.

Nick’s smile returned. “Oh, but that’s _bound_ to come in handy on the job,” he teased.

Meanwhile, in the other vehicle, one of the other Angels glanced at Vanya. "He'll be answering for that later won't he?"

Vanya studied her claws. "Of course he will," she replied, “but only when it suits me. Overt chases are too commonplace.”

Vanya had a way with males rather like a spoiled child's way with toys: she grabbed whoever she wanted, played with him until she got bored, and then broke him or threw him aside, depending on what she felt like doing. Those who refused to cooperate... well, she never did anything to them right away. That would be too obvious. No, she much preferred to bide her time and let them forget her until she came back to remind them. Her methods of doing this were many, but never pleasant for the male who had displeased her.

Nick Wilde had been a particularly challenging one, and the truth was that she had never gotten all she wanted from him – a fact which she would have liked very much to remedy. If he came back, she might even forgive him – or perhaps not. As it was, he wanted to go, so she let him... for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this chapter doesn’t do much for the story, but I felt that after the talk with Finnick it needed a more reflective scene. Also, I needed to get Vanya established as she’s going to be quite the key player later on. As some of you probably know already, I based her and her group on the so-called Angels from the film’s earlier concepts. In this version, they work for Mr. Big on jobs where his usual polar bears would be too obtrusive – or just too big. The question now is, will Vanya let Nick’s renewed standing with Mr. Big stop her if she wants her old boyfriend back?
> 
> On a side note, why do I get the feeling Vanya would get along great with Poisson?
> 
> In addition to the original concept reference, I’ve made this chapter an Easter Egg hunt. Here are the clues:  
> Three Disney movies  
> Two comic refs  
> And a Spectacular Spider-Man  
> (and now you’ll be hearing that in musical form)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Don’t forget to fave, follow, and review!


	5. Fox Pas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slice-of-life chapter in which Nick's usual shopping trip takes a surprise turn. He said he knows everyone, but does he really...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick FYI: In the real world, male foxes (particularly adults) may be known as foxes, tods, or dogs. For the purposes of my Zootopia fanfics, "Fox" will be semi-generic, like "man." "Dog" will suggest that the guy in question is a bit of a rascal. "Tod" will imply youthfulness or a sense of fun and energy, suggesting a teen or a lively adult like Nick.  
> Young foxes may be called "kits" or "cubs" interchangeably (I'll generally use "cub" for male or generic and "kit" for girls), and mature females are just known as vixens. My thanks to AngloFalcon for the info – and for his ever-helpful assistance as a beta reader. Those waiting for me to update can also check out his fanfic "Wilde Academy” on fanfiction.net, and get after him to update the thing already. lol

**"God gives grace to the humble, but He flattens the hotshot."**

**Mrs. Martin,** _**The Adventures of McGee and Me** _

"Hey, watch it!"

Nick darted aside as a rhino's foot came down uncomfortably close to where he had been standing. It was late morning the day after his rounds with Judy, with the early part having been spent contacting his most promising acquaintances. That task completed, he'd remembered that the food supply at his apartment was a little scant. He was supposed to meet with Judy that afternoon once she was done interviewing some of the victims in the recent drugging incident to see if that might turn up any leads.

On the whole, he found he preferred crooks and cons to the daytime crowd in Savannah Central.

The massive mammal glanced down at him. "Watch yourself, short stuff," he rumbled, moving on as if Nick had just inconsiderately put himself in a position to get stomped.

Nick shook his head. "How can someone look down his nose with those big horns in the way?" he muttered, going back to browsing the dried bugs. It crossed his mind to wonder why an herbivore was even in an aisle specifically geared to pred foods, and he considered asking if the rhino was looking for a relative among the beetles. However the jerk _was_ leaving, and the quip wasn't worth bringing him back – much less potentially getting flattened. Instead, Nick just made a mental note to look more carefully for other large animals passing through. The fact that he kept looking high might have been the reason why he failed to notice when a mammal much nearer his size range stopped and stared at him. It took her a moment to recognize him, but her jaw fell open when she did.

While Nick failed to observe his observer, he did spot a lioness walking by, trailing a cub with a balloon on a long,  _long_  string. Ever the sales-fox, it occurred to him that balloons would make a handy solution to the visibility issue. His mom had done that sometimes back in his cubhood when they went to fairs.

"Only, I'd look ridiculous walking around with a balloon tied to me," he uttered under his breath. Pawaiian shirts – like the  _very_  loud red one he was currently wearing, bedecked with yellow flowers outlined in gold – were one thing. They were fun in their own way, especially today when he felt the need to reassert himself by wearing something outlandish even by his standards. A balloon, though, would be going too far. Catching a glimpse of a passing antelope buck with a doe on his arm, he noted another snag with the idea: "And it would wreak havoc on my charm."

"Do you always talk to yourself?"

He turned around and froze. There in front of him was the vixen from the day before. His words to Judy came back to him: _'You know this is going to bite me on the off chance I bump into her later, right?'_ He tried to push that less-than-cheerful thought aside. Maybe she had forgotten their last run-in.

She apparently took his silence as a cue to continue herself. "So, it's 'Junior Detective,' right?"

Nick wanted to dig a hole in the floor.  _Then again, maybe not._  "Nick Wilde, actually," he replied, hoping to salvage his dignity. "Only Carrots ever calls me... Junior Detective." He trailed off, realizing he had just admitted to being on a nickname basis with the cop who had pulled her over.  _Someone slap me already,_  he thought.

"Carrots?" Taelia tilted her head, wrinkling her face in confusion.

"The cop who, uh... the rabbit," he amended. "You might know her as Judy Hopps?"

Nick figured an offhanded delivery of news like that was sure to get a reaction. The vixen didn't disappoint as her eyes popped open.

" _The_  Judy Hopps?!" she echoed. She'd thought the rabbit looked familiar the day before, but she'd been a little too busy hoping to avoid a ticket to think about it. Now she almost wished she  _had_  been ticketed. It would practically be an autograph.

He shrugged apologetically. "That's the one. Sorry about the traffic stop."

She waved a hand, brushing the matter aside and trying not to blush. "Nah, it's fine. I was a little out of it. Sometimes I just get too into the music, you know?"

Nick, who preferred to take a 'too cool for this' approach to most tunes, nodded anyway. "Yeah, I gotcha."

By some unspoken signal, the two of them went on with their shopping in tandem, still chatting. Nick was taking mental notes on the vixen's selections the whole time; a hard-wired habit from years in the sales world. He also made note of the fact that neither of her paws had a ring on it. That was as much a survival skill as anything else, really; a hefty number of his narrow escapes in the past had come from trying to steal someone's girl. She picked up on his attentiveness, but pretended not to notice.

"I don't think I caught your name," he mentioned.

"That's because I didn't throw it," she replied, sticking out a paw. "Taelia Fangaster." She pronounced it ‘Tal-ya.’

 _Interesting name,_  he thought. "You seem to know the store pretty well," he noted as she unhooked a small stepladder from her shopping cart and climbed up to reach a deal on one of the higher shelves.

She shrugged. "Well, I like to try different things when it comes to food, so I explore a lot. So how did you end up riding with Judy Hopps? I didn't think cops gave rides."

He coughed a little. "Uh, actually, I'm not supposed to talk about it," he explained as she came back down the ladder. Then he leaned in closer and whispered, "I'm helping her on a case."

" _Really?"_  she asked, her voice piquing with redoubled interest. A fox being friends with a police officer - and a rabbit, at that - had been enough to fix Nick's face in her mind from the start (and it wasn't a half-bad face, either). That the fox in question would actually be  _working_  with that officer on a case... well,  _that_  she had to hear more about. "What kind of case?"

"Well, on the record I can't tell you that." He had largely managed to stay out of the news articles. The ZPD made it a rule to keep informants and witnesses anonymous whenever possible. Although word seemed to have reached old associates that he was working  _with_  the authorities this time, he was just fine with not helping it along. Taelia seemed safe enough, though, so he leaned toward her and whispered, "Strictly between us foxes, though, it  _might_  have something to do with the predators being darted over the last few months."

She blinked in surprise as if a camera flash had gone off in her face, and her ears flicked in bewilderment. "You were part of that?"

He nodded, pausing to pick up a package of Pup-Tarts. "I gave her a few leads, yeah," he replied. He was pleased to see that his charm hadn't abandoned him. It was easy to see that she was eating the story up, so he decided to divulge a little more. "And I kind of helped her out when it came to bringing in Bellwether."

Taelia was intrigued by Nick's claim. She'd outgrown the idea of a selfless hero motivated purely by altruism some time ago (well, sort of), but a girl could still dream, right? "So what kind of help did you give her?"

Nick suspected he had already said more than the ZPD would like, and he definitely didn’t want to answer _that_ question too fully. At least, he didn’t want to answer it then and there. A well-told story could sweep a female off her paws, but a supermarket wasn’t usually the best setting. _Time for a quick dodge and switch,_ he thought, shrugging carelessly to cover his sudden reticence. "Oh, just putting her in touch with a few people here and there. I've got friends all over the city, and Judy has a way of bringing out the best in mammals. I think she'll go far in life."

Taelia caught the effort to change the subject, but decided to humor him. "Hmm, I see. So what do you do when  _you're_  not saving the day, Mr. Kent?"

He raised an eyebrow at the joke. "Eh, bit of an entrepreneur, really; mostly in sales."

"What kind of sales?"

"You name it. Pawpsicles, rugs; all kinds of things. I'm thinking about changing careers, though. Judy's kind of got me leaning toward law enforcement."

Taelia looked up from some yogurt-covered raisins. "A fox cop? Has that ever been done before?"

"Nah, but why let that stop me? It’s not like there’s been a lot of rabbit cops either."

She smiled. It was a tall tale to swallow, but deep down, she really wanted to believe him. "Well, I'm sure you'll do great."

Nick paused. Not many mammals ever expressed confidence in him. Since he'd lost his dad the only ones to say they were "sure he'd do great" were his mother (who  _would_  say that, of course) and Judy. "Thanks," he said with full meaning. "That means a lot." Uncomfortable with the silence, he asked, "So what do you do for a living?"

"Oh, me? I'm a D-Jane." In response to the puzzled look this gained her, she explained, "A sound technician. You know, the person in the sound booth at concerts and recording sessions? Kind of like a conductor. I make the music sound better."

"Ah." Nick hadn't really given much thought to that, but he guessed someone had to do it. "So you must work with a band or something, right?"

"A few. I've got some regular bits, but I'm basically a free agent."

 _'Free agent.' I like the sound of that,_  thought Nick. "Anyone I'd know?"

She shrugged. "Well, Gazelle for one."

Nick's eyes popped. "You've worked with Gazelle?"

Taelia laughed. "No, I wish. I always say that to see if people are paying attention. Sometimes mammals just kind of glaze over when I tell them what I do."

"No, I want to hear," he insisted, quite honestly. "So what are some of your regulars?"

"Ever heard of  _Vixen?"_

Nick paused. " _Vixen_. Yeah, I've heard some of their songs on the radio. You were behind that?"

"Every note," she answered with just a touch of pride. "I've been with them since the band got together in college."

The tod made a mental note to look up some of  _Vixen_ 's music. He was pretty sure he'd heard a few of their songs here and there, but a concentrated study wouldn't hurt.

They got so caught up in talking and shopping that both of them were a little surprised when they found themselves on the other side of the checkout. Nick coughed. "Well, I guess this is where we part ways."

Taelia considered. She didn't want to be forward - it wasn't her style and had a way of landing her in trouble - but she liked Nick and had gotten nothing but good signals from him so far. "That depends," she replied.

"Depends on what?"

She hesitated only a moment longer before she said, "On whether you were going to ask me to lunch or a movie."

"Ah." Nick coughed.  _Way to put a guy on the spot,_  he thought. "Well, do you mind if I stop at the bank first?" By way of explanation, he dug in his pocket and held up his wallet. He made it a habit to only carry enough cash to cover whatever errand he was on at the moment. "I don't think I've got enough on me for lunch."

Taelia shrugged as she hefted her two sacks of groceries, feeling a tad guilty for springing that on him. "The nearest bank's two blocks away. How about I treat? Call it a thank-you for what you did for all of us."

Nick was a little thrown. "Well, if you insist," he said without much reluctance. Vixen or no vixen, he wasn't of a mind to turn down free lunch.

Taelia led the way to a  _Chez Cheese_  outlet just around the corner. Business was fairly slow at that time of day, so they hardly had to wait in line at all – something Nick suspected was not just lucky timing. He recognized the air of someone who, like him, had what she did down to an art form.

"What'll it be?" asked the mouse behind the counter.

The vixen smiled. "Got any mild cheddar with bits of dried strawberry in it?"

Nick blinked. He'd long been in the habit of trying new things in food, but that was a new one even on him.

The mouse looked equally confused. "Uh, no," he said slowly, "but we've got it with basil and sun-dried tomato."

"Mmm, nah." Taelia shook her head. "I have that all the time. How about a slice of the jalapeno cheese on a fish patty sandwich, with a side of mozzarella sticks and horseradish dip? Oh, and a small fountain drink."

"Yep, we've got that," the mouse agreed, punching in the order. He turned to Nick. "What about you?"

Nick thought for a minute and, not wanting to be outdone by a vixen, ordered a grilled cheese sandwich with interspersed layers of horseradish and habanero cheese, some spicy fries, and a medium fountain drink. "Upgrade her drink too," he added, pulling out a couple of bills.

Taelia turned to him with a raised eyebrow, but she was smiling.

"You didn't have to do that," she told him en route to the table. "Refills are free, so I always get the small size when I'm eating in." She slipped her bags under the table and added, "I appreciate the thought, though."

"Anytime," he said, half-wishing they'd picked a free-standing table instead of a booth so he could draw out a chair for her. He hadn't gotten to be one of the best hustlers in the city without knowing how to charm a lady, but a restaurant like this limited the options for sweeping her off her feet. Taking note of her idiosyncrasies, however, was still an option.

"So," he asked, "what was with the strawberry cheese request?"

She laughed. "Oh, that. Well, I came across some free samples once at a store and it was love at first bite.” Seeing the skeptical look on his face, she insisted, “It's actually really good. I'd buy a wheel of it to use at home, but specialty items like that are so darn expensive. So whenever I come to one of these places I ask just in case they break down and add it to the menu."

Nick thought about that. He liked a good bit of berry once in a while, so why not? Then he remembered that, now he was trying to put scams behind him, his finances were a little tighter than usual.  _Maybe when I get my first bonus check,_  he thought,  _assuming police get bonus checks._

They left their table briefly to fill up; Nick with a Koala Kola and Taelia with strawberry milk. It looked more and more like she had a regular plan for these things, because that took exactly the time needed for their order to come up. Nick was impressed, and maybe that was why he paused at the condiment station to squeeze some extra hot sauce onto his sandwich.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Taelia. "I don't know if you know this, but the hot sauce here is kind of... intense."

 _Ah-ha,_  thought Nick, priding himself on being the last one to blink. "I've had their hot sauce," he assured her with a calm wink.

They sat down, and he waited smugly while she took a bite. Her cheeks bulged for a moment as she chewed. Then she swallowed with maybe just a hint more effort than one would expect for the bite she took. Nick, in turn, took a bite of his own sandwich.

 _AHHHHHH!_ The hot sauce was like pepper spray in the mouth! He grasped at his throat, fought to keep from spitting out his mouthful, and then frantically grabbed for his soda.

"Nick, hold it!" Taelia cried. She snatched the soda away from him and offered her own drink instead. Confused but not really caring about details, he accepted the milk and drank like his life depended on it.

"Don't chug it down," she advised hastily. "Just hold it in your mouth. It'll calm down the hot sauce."

It took a lot of self-control to heed her advice, but, to his surprise, he found it worked. "Thanks," he said, breathing hard. "Whoo. I guess it's been a little too long since I had a gutburner special."

Taelia raised an eyebrow. "You know they changed their hot sauce, right? Customers were complaining it wasn't strong enough."

Nick wanted to smack himself in the face. "Thanks for the warning."

She laughed. "Well I did try," she pointed out, "but you were so casual about it I thought you knew."

 _Ouch._ Then it occurred to him that he'd guzzled down most of her drink. "Sorry," he added, lifting the cup. "Uh, I guess I can buy you another drink if you don’t want this one back."

She giggled and waved a paw dismissively. "No, let's just switch. This one's hardly been touched, and I think you'll need mine to polish off that sandwich. Besides, soda just makes anything acidic worse."

He gazed doubtfully at his chosen (very poorly chosen, in retrospect) lunch. Then, deciding he'd already sacrificed his dignity anyway, he went to the milk fountain for a top-off.

 _Nice one, Rameo,_  he thought to himself.

To Taelia's credit, she didn't laugh at what had happened to him – well, not much. "I'll give you points for effort," she admitted when, with great difficulty, he had finished his sandwich. "You're good at this."

He laughed, mostly to cover up the pain in his maw. He wasn't sure it was possible, but he was fairly certain he'd have blisters on the roof of his mouth later. "Thanks." It occurred to him that Judy would have been reading him the riot act – albeit in a very caring way – for doing that to his insides. Only a day or two before, he had eaten two or three doughnuts for lunch and she had asked – albeit jokingly – if he’d gone and picked Clawhauser as a role model.

"Well, I guess I should be heading back home," Taelia remarked, picking up her bags.

"I'll walk you to your car," Nick offered, grabbing his own.

"Didn't bring one. My apartment's just a couple of blocks away."

Nick managed to talk her into letting him give her a lift – his thanks for the meal and for her not laughing too hard over the hot sauce. "It was fun," he said when she asked him again outside her apartment building if he was feeling alright. Then when she gave him a major 'not buying it' look, he added, "Okay, the sandwich wasn't fun, but that was my fault.  _Lunch_  was fun. We should do it again sometime."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of asking for my phone number?"

He smiled confidently. Some dogs had trouble talking to the ladies. To him, it was like riding a bicycle. "I might have been thinking about that," he admitted without a trace of reluctance.

"Well," she replied, slipping a card out of her shirt pocket, "I might have been thinking about giving it to you." She paused a moment to write something on it, then handed it to him with a surprisingly shy smile for someone who had basically asked him out not an hour ago.

 _Nice,_  he thought as he accepted the card. She definitely had style, and not just when it came to banter. The paper stock wasn't  _quite_  top-grade, but the image – her name spelled out in flowing script and underlined by a red and orange electric guitar – was pretty eye-catching. Underneath the guitar was printed, "Sound Technician," and on the back it had her phone number and an e-mail address. Next to these she had hand-written ‘Best time: 7-10 PM.’

"I'll call you," he promised, tucking it into his shirt pocket.

She rolled her eyes as he made a show of pulling out some shades and popping them on, but she waved as he pulled away. "See you later, Junior Detective."

He opened his mouth to correct her, then stopped.  _I could get used to it,_  he thought.

Taelia watched as he drove off. She'd learned the hard way not to make too many snap decisions when it came to tods, but she was at least resolved to keep an eye on this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this chapter. I realize that Nick wasn't quite his usual funny self in the previous chapters, which in fairness was sort of the point, but I hope I got his comical side this time. As always, questions and comments are welcome.  
> How do you think Judy will react if/when she finds out about Taelia? Will this have any impact on Nick’s pursuit of the case?  
> When I posted this on fanfiction.net, a number of people have commented on the "Mr. Kent" remark. Admittedly I knew from the get-go that putting that in would be a little off, but I figure there would be some equivalent to Superman in Zootopia's entertainment industry (after all, the themes he's built on are pretty intuitive). I've tried to think of a suitable animal-ized parody name, but I must confess I have no ideas there. Suggestions welcome.  
> Last but not least, I pulled the name of Taelia’s band from one in a web comic called The Conspiracy. And no, they are not all vixens or even all foxes, but you’ll have to read on to find out more about that.


	6. What Ever Happened to Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy goes to question Emmitt Otterton, and makes a surprising discovery.

**"Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate my bread, has (betrayed) me."**

**Psalm 41:9**

Judy strode through the halls of Zootopia Central Hospital's psychiatric ward, past row after row of blank doors heavier than most in the hospital. As a younger bunny, she had been quite accustomed to hospitals, or at least Saint Ninian’s Tri-Burrow Medical Center. Her mom's frequent visits to the maternity ward, plus occasional injuries from her own antics, had put her on almost a first-name basis with half the doctors. The center, however, hadn't had a psychiatric ward, since rabbits as a rule tended to be pretty even-keeled. The sight of such heavy doors, along with some less-than-pleasant memories of visits to this hospital wing's Isolation Unit, made this walk feel rather like her trip down to the Nocturnal District the day before.

Fortunately, she reminded herself, there was one big difference: this time she was on her way to visit someone she'd already met. What was more, she was sure he would be more than glad to see her. According to the nurse at the front desk, Mr. Otterton was well on his way to a full recovery. The hospital had decided to extend his stay, along with those of the other patients, for observation purposes. This was because the Night Howler serum was enough of a departure from ordinary cases that it had been deemed best to play it safe. So far, however, it looked like the worst damage done in the long term was some overtaxed adrenaline glands – hardly a surprising side effect, and nothing the right care couldn't handle.

At room 201, she pushed a button next to the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Otterton," she called. "You feel up for a visit?"

"Are you joking?" answered a voice through the speaker a moment later. "Come on in before I die of boredom!"

Laughing, Judy walked in the door. The room looked much nicer on the inside; almost homey, in fact. Soft blue walls, flowers on the table and bookshelf, a soft-glowing floor lamp, a chair near the bed, and even a few wall decorations made it feel more like a bedroom than a hospital room. For a personal touch, the Ottertons had brought framed photos, a hand-sewn pillow shaped like a fish, and even a fishing pole of Emmitt's which stood propped up in one corner next to the oldest son's lucky baseball bat. Indeed, aside from a few odd bits of equipment and the bed itself, Judy felt like she had stepped into someone's house.

"Well, well, Officer Judy Hopps," the grizzled-looking otter on the bed greeted, smiling with recognition. After cracking the case and finding Emmitt, Judy had quickly become friends with the whole family. At the moment, though, Emitt was the only one there. "What's the occasion?"

"Wanted to see how you're doing," she answered brightly, "and ask a few questions if you're up for it."

"Of course, of course," he agreed, waving to the chair. "Ask away."

Judy sat and pulled out a notepad. Though her smartphone had its advantages (and its recorder app made a handy backup for interviews), she liked the old-school feeling of scrawling a pen across paper. It made her feel like a detective, which – together with getting Nick into a uniform – was her next big ambition now that she was a cop.

"Have you thought of any reason why you in particular might have been targeted?" she asked. They'd discussed the question before, since so far few of the afflicted mammals had any common threads to speak of. None of them knew each other or ran in the same circles except for Otterton and Manchas. They had also had the only connections to any circles Bellwether might have wished to disrupt, and those connections were strictly legal. Outside of that the nearest link was that the second polar bear targeted was Koslov's second cousin twice removed. It was almost as if someone had stood in a room wallpapered with the names of Zootopia's predators, put on a blindfold, and thrown darts around.

Mr. Otterton shook his head. "Can't think of any," he confessed.

Judy tried a few more questions, most of which concerned business or political figures whom the ZPD's detectives had listed as perhaps being at odds with Bellwether. It turned out that for such an innocent-seeming ewe, she'd had a number of grudges with various predators, though most were over trivial matters. Unfortunately, aside from having voted for one or two of the officials, Mr. Otteron had no discernible links to any of them.

Finally, Judy tried her own hunch. "Do you happen to know Olivia Poisson?"

The otter’s face screwed up doubtfully. "No... wait, is she related to Arthur Poisson?" A hint of recognition showed as he said this, like someone who has a word on the tip of their tongue.

Judy almost jumped out of her chair with excitement after such a long time of blank looks and empty answers. "Yes, that's the one. She’s his daughter."

Mr. Otteron shrugged. "Well, then I knew her father after a fashion. He provided most of the initial investment to get my flower shop up and running."

Judy considered this. "So Mr. Poisson owned stock in your company?"

"Still owns some," Mr. Otterton admitted. "He advised me to buy back enough to hold fifty-one percent of its worth, which I did, but I saw no sense in worrying about the rest. Last I heard, he still owns it." To himself, he mused, "Wonder what he's up to these days anyway?"

 _That doesn't add up,_  Judy thought.  _If Olivia respects her father even half as much as she seemed to when I met her, she wouldn't want to hurt his stock holdings or a company he helped start._ She jotted down a note to look into the ramifications of that question later, then decided to try another train of thought. "So there's no hostility between you and the Poissons?'

"Not that I can see," he assured her. "Why would you..." he trailed off, and his face took on a stunned expression. "Great Scott!" he uttered in quiet shock. "You don't think I was targeted because of one of them, do you?"

"Just checking all leads," Judy assured him. She could see, however, that the insinuation had unsettled him, so she made the rest of the interview brief and made some more relaxed conversation to ease the transition out. "Thanks for all the help," she told him in parting. "I'll keep in touch."

Mr. Otterton looked worried as he thanked her in turn. "Judy," he told her, "whatever's going on here, Mr. Poisson has been a good skunk for as long as I've known him. I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for him."

 _That could be taken a couple of ways,_  thought Judy, considering her suspicions about Olivia. "Actually, it's his daughter I've been asked to investigate," she admitted. "I realize it's a slim thread, but we're not leaving any stone unturned on this."

Mr. Otterton put a paw to his chin, thinking. "His daughter..." he mused. "Well, I never knew his family much, but from what I knew of him I can't believe any child of his could be a part of what's been going on."

Judy thanked him and left, hoping he was right and feeling somewhere deep in her bones that he wasn't. After all, who knew better than she did that sometimes the apple  _did_  fall far from the tree? Besides, with an attitude like Olivia's, something had to be up.

As she drove from the hospital to the next stop on her itinerary, Judy went over what she knew in her mind. The way Emmitt described Olivia's father, it sounded as if he considered the skunk more than an investor; an associate at the very least, and probably a friend. That didn't necessarily eliminate any chance of a link between Miss Poisson and the Night Howlers, although it made it seem far less likely that she'd had a role in choosing the targets.

 _Unless of course Olivia didn't share in that connection,_  she mused.  _Besides, sometimes the ones you think are your best friends can be your worst enemies._  There was no way she'd ever forget the striking switch between Bellwether's friendly words during the case, and the way the ewe had tried to murder her using her best friend as a weapon.

Then another thought came to her.  _I wonder if those shares left with her father fell into her paws along with Pwasson's Passion._

She reasoned that if Olivia did have stock in the flower shop, that would have prevented her from wanting to harm the business or anyone involved in it. Then she thought of something else. Finance and corporate affairs weren't her forte, but she wondered if removing the head of a business could raise the other stockholders’ shares. She had seen a show once where someone tried to kill several tycoons, boasting that her shares in their companies would triple in value. Granted the show was science fiction, but if a stunt like that would actually work in real life…

As she was linking one thought to another, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye.  _Is that Nick's car?_  She maneuvered closer. Sure enough, it was. She remembered him showing it off the previous week. He didn't make a habit of driving, but now that he was going on the up and up he wasn't so worried about keeping a low profile. The car was just his style: a classic convertible, red with a canvas roof, refurbished and outfitted with a 'big league' engine by some feline mechanics over on the outskirts of Sahara Square. True to form, Nick had managed to pass the bill off to an old associate who owed him a favor.

Of course all of this was peripheral. What really interested Judy was what happened when Nick pulled up to the curb. Conveniently the light ahead was red, so she stopped and watched through her rear-view mirror as a vixen stepped out and briefly talked with Nick. Judy had always been good at remembering faces (one advantage of coming from a big family), and she recognized the vixen as easily as an old friend.

 _Well gol-ly,_  she thought, mentally parodying the impression most tended to get that she was a young, naive country girl.  _What are the chances of that?_

Actually, being a math whiz, Judy realized that the chances of their three paths crossing like this – and without Nick knowing it at that – bordered on astronomical. Later, thinking back on it, she would get the distinct impression that someone upstairs was having a good, hard laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about taking my time with Judy finding out about Taelia, but why drag it out? I've already lost one reader by taking too long to get to the action (and I hate to say it, but it looks like that's a few chapters off). Don't worry; it's a-coming.  
> I'm continuing the Easter Egg hunt here. Hit me with the answers to any of the following questions (and maybe how you got the answers), and I'll give you a shout-out in the next chapter. Guess them all, and I might include your requests or characters in later works. Don't guess them all... and I still might take your suggestions; they're always welcome.  
> First Easter Egg: Where did I get the name for the hospital Judy had known before?  
> Second Easter Egg: I've hidden an actor in some references pertaining to Mr. Otterton. The clues are one of his lines, one of the items placed in his room, and his first name. Who is the actor?  
> Third Easter Egg: What show did Judy think back on?  
> Fourth Easter Egg: Who are the mechanics who refurbished Nick's new car?  
> Happy hunting!


	7. Surprise, Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Judy meet to discuss the case. But will it be a meeting of the minds, or a lot of butting heads?

**Bilbo: "Don't do that! (play with the knives) You'll blunt them!"**

**Dwarf: "Oh, do you hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives."**

_**The Hobbit** _

 

The cop and would-be cop met that evening to compare notes at Judy's apartment. Nick cast an eye around, taking in the shabby wallpaper and sparse furnishings, the nicest of which was a very small dresser Judy had picked up as a roadside freebie. The fact that one of the antelopes next door (thankfully while heading out) had almost stepped on the fox without so much as an 'oops' hadn't done wonders for his impression of the place.

"Luxury apartments, huh?" he asked.

Judy shrugged. "I know, I know. I wanted the whole 'big city' experience."

Nick smirked. "Kind of like wanting to ask someone out 'in the worst possible way'?"

He might as well have rolled out the red carpet. "Funny  _you_  should say that," the bunny couldn't resist pointing out.

Suspicion drew Nick’s ears back. "And why would that be?" he asked, frowning.

Judy glanced at him with the same look she gave a parking meter when it chimed. "Well, unless I'm going crazy, I saw you out driving earlier with that vixen we pulled over. Uh..." she stared at the ceiling with a paw to her chin. "Tabitha, was it?"

"That's _Taelia_ ," Nick replied, a little nonplussed at having been caught. He wasn't sure which Judy seemed to be better at: being in just the right place at just the right time to catch him up to something, or saying, 'I told you so' without actually saying it.

Quickly, she reminded him of another talent of hers: the cunning set-up. "Ha!" she exclaimed, poking him in the side. "Gotcha!"

Nick could not believe he'd been caught with that trick.  _Rrrgh._  He thought. _Judy’s beginning to get too clever for_ my _own good_. "You're right," he said cynically. "You are going crazy."

"Ha ha. Now spill it."

"For your information," he said in his defense, folding his arms, "I was making sure she wouldn't get pulled over for distracted driving."

Judy wasn't buying it, but she decided to play along. "And who's going to take care of  _your_  distracted driving?" she teased.

The fox weighed his options. If he told her the whole story – that Taelia had treated him to a bite to eat and he'd given her a lift to be a reynard – he'd never get a moment's peace. If he made something up, she'd probably find out anyway and be twice as insufferable once she did. Quite frankly, that was a far worse prospect than he wanted to even think about.

For her own part, Judy wasn't about to let a little thing like a lack of information stop her; no sir. "So does she have a ring?"

 _Okay,_ now _she's getting nosy,_  he thought. "Now why would I tell you a thing like that?"

"You checked," she announced triumphantly. "If you hadn't, you would have said so."

Nick raised an index finger, opened his mouth... and found he had no argument to give. Defeated, he shook his head. "I have the right to remain silent," he said flatly.

"I'm supposed to tell you that," she complained, elbowing him.

He rolled his eyes and let out a  _very_  expressive sigh. "They should have you do interrogations," he muttered. "I'd  _pay_  any crook who could stand five minutes around you."

By the way she stared up at the ceiling in response, it was clear he was in trouble. "I may just take that recommendation to Chief Bogo."

"I thought you _wanted_ me in the ZPD.  _Speaking of which,_  didn't I come here to compare notes?"

Judy smirked, taking his change of topic as an effort to avoid admitting defeat. "Did you come here for that? Yes. Yes you did."

He pointed one claw at her. "Okay, bunny, there is a fine line between sounding smart and sounding like a smart-aleck. You are definitely way over it."

"All I have to do is sound smarter than you."

"Hardy-har-har. Are we going to keep this up all night?"

"Oh, just make out already!" shouted a voice from the other side of the wall. Apparently one of the antelope neighbors had decided to stick around.

 _That_  threw a bucket of icy water on the repartee. Judy scrunched her eyes tight and stuck out a paw. "Truce?"

Nick shook it. "Truce. And how about we hold this meeting someplace where we  _won't_  have color commentary?"

Judy considered a quip about him supplying the color and her supplying the commentary, but decided it would take too long to word it right. Besides, he was right about one thing: if they didn't get down to brass tacks, they really  _would_  be up all night.

Then Nick snapped his fingers. "We could text it back and forth," he pointed out.

The tall, rounded ears dropped in confusion, and one of Judy's eyebrows went up as if to take their place. "While we're in the same room?" she asked. To her, the idea of using a phone when face-to-face conversation was doable was totally foreign. Despite the chaos which had been common in her house, her parents had firmly drilled the whole family in the value of sitting down and talking the old-fashioned way.

The fox just smirked, glad to be back on top of the banter. "Hey, 'big city experience.'"

Judy sighed and pulled out her phone. "If someone told me I'd ever do this, I'd have said they were crazy."

A chuckle escaped his muzzle, and he pounced on the chance to get in a dig for the ones she had made about Taelia. "Kind of like bringing a guy to your apart-"

Judy's index finger whipped out, fast and threatening as a duelist's rapier. "You finish that remark, and our friendship is over."

Actually, most of the note comparisons were pretty straightforward; all Judy had to do was let Nick look over her notebook. As for discussion, there really wasn't much to discuss. Judy had been hoping Nick could tell her something about her suspicions, but stock options weren't his strong suit. _'Too much paperwork,'_ he texted, _'and too easy to trace. I always deal in cash.'_

Judy let out a huff through her nose. _'Can you think of anyone who might be able to help?'_

Nick tapped his muzzle a few times and texted back, _'I know a few mammals in the stock market. I'll shoot them some texts.'_

For all her merits, Judy was not a patient doe. Also, she was a creature of schedules; they had been an inescapable part of her youth. They had to be if one was to maintain any semblance of order in a house with over three hundred young rabbits (as the count had been by the time she left for the academy) running around. So as creative as she was, she now found herself growing fidgety with unexpected time on her paws. There was nothing to do but watch Nick batter away at his phone with his thumbs.

The string of emoticons he sent her now and again didn't help either. The :) was alright, and the ;) was worth a smirk, but when he shot her a ;P she started to get the feeling he was just trolling her.

Nick suppressed a snicker as he watched Judy's foot drum the floor. Pausing from his texts to other parties, he sent another one her way.

_'Has anyone ever told you how cute you look when you're impatient?'_

Judy felt her face and neck grow hot as she read the message. She took in a breath to reply, then caught herself and texted it instead. _'Has anyone ever told you not to call me cute? Oh yeah – me.'_

The fox snickered, wondering if he could make her turn as red as himself. 'I didn't call you cute,' he replied, throwing in a wounded-looking emoticon. _'I just said you look cute.'_

_'Oh, you're hilarious.'_

_'You don't like looking cute? Okay, you look funny. Funny funny bunny.'_ He ducked a pillow and kept right on texting. _'And you throw like a bunny too.'_

Judy groaned out loud. "Isn't there someone else you can annoy?" she asked, abandoning texts for the moment.

Nick grinned. _'Good idea. I'll text Taelia.'_

By this time, Judy had migrated to her bed. Now she smashed her face into her mattress, having already thrown the pillow at him. "Wake me up when you're done," she groaned, glancing at the clock. She had scheduled for Nick to be around until ten. It was now 8:28.  _I am never going to make it,_  she thought.

Nick made a truly infuriating clicking sound. "Aww, is da bunny jeawous?"

Judy lifted her head just long enough to cast him a withering look before letting gravity take her. Nick smirked for about the fiftieth time that night, then looked back at his phone as it chimed. His _'Hi'_ to Taelia had gotten a reply.

_'Hey, just finished some work for the big concert. How are you?'_

_'Fine,'_ he replied. _'Working on the case with Officer Hopps. You?'_

 _'Great,'_ came the quick reply. _'Hey, this is kind of sudden, but can you spare some time tomorrow evening? I could use a favor.'_

“Well, how about that?” he joked for Judy’s benefit. “She’s asking me out.”

“ _Nick,”_ Judy protested. At least it sounded like that; it was hard to tell with her face buried in the mattress.

Frustrated and bored, Judy decided she wasn't going to move until Nick was done goofing around. Unfortunately, her body wasn't exactly on board with the idea; about ten minutes later, she felt the call of nature.

"I'll be right back," she groaned, trudging out the door.

As soon as the door was shut, Nick finished responding to his latest incoming message and looked up from his phone. Both as a predator and as one used to being on the wrong side of the law, he always kept an eye on his surroundings – like a certain odd, flat thing sticking out from under Judy's bed. It looked like a sock, but there was something off about it (and besides, Judy didn't wear socks). Glancing at the door, he tiptoed to the bed and knelt to take a look.

 _Oh, wow,_  he thought, a grin covering his muzzle.  _This is even better than I thought it would be._  Moving with silent speed, he locked the door. What he was going to do was beyond mean, but 'all work and no play.' Besides, between the stunt she had pulled on him at the traffic stop the day before and the fact that she had twice outfoxed him concerning Taelia that evening, he owed her some reprisal. It was a matter of honor now.

Judy was more than a little annoyed when she got back to her apartment to find it locked.  _Well, at least this happened with someone inside,_  she thought, supposing that she'd simply made a mistake. "Uh, Nick?" she called.

"Oh, Carrots!" he exclaimed a little loudly, taking advantage of the building's fantastic acoustics. "I was just admiring your collection. The little gray bunny with the badge is just so  _adorable!_  It even looks like you!"

Judy felt her face turn pale. "Nick!" she cried. "Someone's going to hear!"

"Past tense, bunny," came a voice down the hall.

"And the brown one," Nick went on relentlessly. "I never imagined a tough bunny like you collected stuffed-"

Now Judy's face turned red. She grabbed the knob and rattled the door for all she was worth. "Nick Wilde, you let me in and leave my stuff alone –  _now!"_

"And oh my gosh, you've even got a  _fox_!" He was spiking his voice with all the delight of a kit at Christmas – loaded up on Meowntain Dew. "I didn't even know they made stuffed foxes. He smells new. Is he named after me?"

" _Your_  name's going to be  _Mud_  when I get in there!" Seeing that the door was getting her nowhere, Judy turned around and leaned hard against it to think.  _There's got to be a way in,_  she thought, shoving her paws into her pockets.

Suddenly a way did come to her – and it was so obvious that she felt brilliant and stupid at the same time. Resisting the urge to just storm in and let him have it, she hatched a plan while he cooed over her collector's set of dinosaur puppets from Pizza Hop.

"Nick," she said, sounding both desperate and menacing, "I am telling you right now to get out from under my bed – and don't even  _think_  about looking in the dresser!"

It was a bait too good for the fox to resist. The dresser’s little drawers were old and tended to stick, but he got them open. One by one he searched them, only to find... nothing whatsoever of interest. _Shirts, pants, a dress or two..._ He hesitated at the underwear drawer, thinking Judy would probably kill him if he went  _that_ far.

Behind him, Judy opened the door as quietly as she could, although the noise Nick made as he fiddled with the drawers more than masked it. Stealthily, she crept up on him and put her foot down – literally.

"Gah!" he yelped, jumping up in the air and grabbing his tail. He spun around before he had even processed what was going on, making for a look which left Judy wishing like crazy for her body-cam.

"Carrots!" Nick cried, clearly panicking. His eyes looked ready to pop, and his fur was fluffed like he’d stuck his tongue in an electric socket.

Judy just glared up at him as if her lavender eyes were about to turn into death rays.

"Eh heh heh..." he laughed nervously, his ears falling back. "Uh, look, you teased me before, so do you think we could just...?"

She had to smile just a little, knowing she had him right where he wanted him.  _So this is what hunting feels like,_  she thought, grabbing his tie and yanking down so that they were eye to triumphant eye.

"I'm going to count to three."

He was gone before she reached two.

"That fox," Judy groaned, shutting the door and locking it behind him. Heaven only knew how long he would have kept it up if she hadn't had the key in her pocket the whole time. Still, getting him to turn his back completely to the door so she could tailgate him had almost been worth the invasion of her drawers. Almost. Secure once again, she set about tidying up her belongings.

 _If Taelia wants him,_  she thought,  _she can_ have  _him._  She only half-meant it, of course. Deep down Nick was still her friend, and she knew it would take more than he was capable of doing to push her past her real limit. Forgiving  _this_  stunt, however, was going to take a while.

As she was straightening up, Judy discovered that Nick had forgotten his smartphone.  _Figures,_  she thought.  _Now I'll have a harder time getting ahold... of him._

Her ears pricked up, and a grin appeared on her face.  _Gosh,_  she thought,  _if only I could show him how that stunt with my collection felt._

Luck was with her; the phone was unlocked.

 _Helloooo, opportunity,_  she thought.

 

In another part of the city, a mammal sat in an office lit only by a single desk lamp, listening as his informant filled him in on the investigation of Olivia Poisson. Forming a steeple with his fingers, his brow creased as he considered the information.  _So, the ZPD's on her tail now? How interesting._

Whether Miss Poisson was actually involved with the recent scheme was more than he knew. It would certainly be convenient for him if she did get in trouble with the law, but not yet; not just yet. Guilty or innocent, he needed her on the loose… for the moment. Once he'd gotten what he was after, she could be shot dead for all he cared.

"Keep delaying the investigation," he said tersely, "and wait for further orders."

This worried his informant. Even the mammal's voice was pale. "Hey, if I get caught-"

"You're already caught by  _me,_ " came the firm reply. He stabbed one finger down into the table top, somehow putting more impetus into that single digit than most mammals could have given to an entire fist. "I can't make my move just yet. The police are investigating every lead they can find, and it's only a miracle they haven't looked into my past connections with you-know-who. Keep them busy." He hung up and pursed his lips, turning his attention to a schedule of flights out of the country over the next month. He couldn't jump on a plane just yet; too much risk of arousing suspicion, and some _very_ important loose ends to tie up in the city first. He could prepare, though. He could always prepare.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, snap. Did I just throw an evil mastermind into the mix? Yep, I did, and just when you thought you knew the rules of the game. Ain't I a stinka?  
> Now I know what a lot of you are thinking about the apartment scene; WildeHopps. Am I going to say one way or the other? No; no I am not. Where's the fun in that? Some of you already know, but please don't say anything. Let the other readers enjoy the suspense. Lol  
> Keep speculating on where things are headed with this; it really does give me a lot of inspiration. My apologies for the lack of action scenes or major plot developments. I hate to make you all wait, especially you who've read White Legend and gotten used to a cliffhanger in every chapter. Hopefully the new player in the game will whet your appetites for the fireworks to come.  
> Congratulations to AngloFalcon for guessing the source of Saint Ninian's (and for correcting me on the spelling), and to Benny for figuring out the actor linked to Emmitt Otterton (personally I would love to see – or rather hear – said actor in a Zootopia sequel. A certain other actor associated with him would go well too, especially playing a wolf). A reminder, though: if I ask for a PM, please PM. It's fairly easy to set up an account if you don't have one.  
> I was actually kind of surprised at how well the Easter Eggs thing seems to have gone; I actually got more views on the last chapter than any other except for chapter one. So there's a couple more in this chapter.  
> One: what movie did the dinosaurs come from?  
> Two: Any guesses on where I got the idea for Judy's entry? (it wasn't something that happened to me, but there is a clue in here about the origin)  
> Happy reading! Keep the feedback coming. I love feedback!


	8. Checkered Pasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Judy scope out their suspects' old apartments, and Nick realizes something he forgot to tell Judy about.  
> In other news, Clawhauser goes crazy.

" **No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. I feel like the maid! 'I just cleaned up this mess; can we keep it clean for... for** _ **ten**_ **minutes?!"**

**Mr. Incredible**

Judy's mood had improved considerably by the time she arrived at Nick's apartment door the following morning. A night's sleep, the prospect of a day making the world a better place, and a couple of hours' worth of devious plotting was always enough to lift her spirits. She even felt sorry enough about having to wake him up before sunrise that when she did, she did it with a cup of coffee in her paw.

"Morning!" she sang cheerfully when he arrived at the door.

Nick, apparently, was in the habit of sleeping in his clothes (much to Judy's relief). His fur was so messy she ached to ask if he'd stuck his tongue in an outlet, and his eyes brought to mind the morning after six of her brothers sneaked out of bed to watch a horror movie marathon. "Someone had better be dying," he mumbled.

She pushed the coffee into his paw. "Had to get up early to get to the precinct, but I figured I'd swing by and return something you forgot last night." Glibly, she held up his phone.

He accepted it like he was afraid it might bite him. It had taken about an hour's frantic search after getting home the night before to come to the realization that she had his phone. After that, he had been forced to lay awake for some time wondering what she might do with it. "So how much info did you pull off this?" he asked, laying his ears back and regarding her from under lowered, skeptical eyelids.

The bunny just smirked and folded her arms. "Enough to make us even," she replied, knowing that this would only increase his paranoia. Between the sheer number of siblings she had and their habit of trying to put one over on 'Detective Judy,' she might as well have had a doctorate in Prankology before she finished Junior High.

Nick yawned as he checked his social media pages for any embarrassing posts.  _Thank goodness she left the shots from the Photobombing Run alone,_  he thought when he found nothing new.

"Oh, and I got those photos you promised me," she added as if reading his mind.

Nick's eyelids dropped to half-mast. "You think you're funny," he said, managing to sound light as he pointed a claw at her, "but you're not."

Judy propped a fist on her hip and smirked. "Me, not funny? Let's see, I  _know_  you said something about that last night." She rubbed her chin in a show of thinking hard. "What was it again? 'Funny, funny bunny'?"

He rolled his bleary eyes and continued to check for mischief. There was a new outgoing call with a number he didn't recognize. He'd call it once she was gone; no sense letting her know she had gotten to him - again. "I'm going back to bed," he announced.

"Okay, but I may need you later to help investigate someone's apartment. You're good at that, right? Nosing around-"

"Alright,  _alright,"_  he surrendered, throwing his paws up. "I was a creep last night. You happy now?"

Judy stowed the recorder pen in her pocket, out of the fox's view. "Very. Sweet dreams."

He frowned as he shut the door and re-called the strange number.

"Viciously Veggie Herbivore Takeout," came the voice at the other end.

Nick stifled a groan and let his head fall back against the door.  _Touché, Carrots. Well played._

Judy strolled off, feeling more than a little triumphant – and that was even without taking into account the added contacts now stored in her phone. Those numbers, she was sure, would come in handy sooner or later.

* * *

Things were quiet in the ZPD lobby as Judy strode in sometime later. Most of the night shift hadn't departed yet, and hardly any of the day shift had arrived. Only a handful of officers of assorted species were to be seen, most of whom she didn't know.

The one familiar face in sight was Ben Clawhauser, whose whole figure seemed heavier than usual. His face was downcast, as were his ears (though they were so tiny compared to his head that it was hard to tell). His shoulders hung with a slump, and he gazed forlornly at the spot where a box of doughnuts usually sat. He was so gloomy that his body almost seemed to be absorbing all the light in the immediate area, casting a dim miasma over the front desk.

Judy felt a pang of guilt as she headed in his direction. Okay, so it wasn't like she had  _made_  the cheetah bet with Bogo over whether she and Nick were an item, but seeing him so down still bothered her – especially since her big mouth had accelerated his agony. "Hey," she greeted, trotting up to the desk and doing a quick chin-up to the counter. "How's life?"

"Oh, fine," he answered dismally. "Just... thinking."

She didn't have to ask what he was thinking about. "You holding up okay?"

Ben frowned. "Oh yeah, just so long as I don't look at anything round." He was avoiding looking at her; her head reminded him too much of a jelly doughnut. "Are you  _sure_  you and Nick are just friends?"

 _Talk about your lose-lose situations,_  she thought. Reminding herself that it would be wrong – and fry her shot at getting Nick into the department – to grant Ben's hopes, she nodded. "Sorry, Ben, but I'm positive. Hey, at least the chief didn't say no eating at all, right?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "but without doughnuts, it's just not the same."

Judy glanced at her watch and judged that if she was quick about handing in the progress report, she should have just enough time for a quick errand before roll call.

She disappeared, and was back in ten minutes. Clawhauser was so busy moping that he didn't notice her arrival until she set down a wax paper package on the counter. "Picked something up for you. It's not a doughnut, but I thought you'd like it."

Ben brightened a little as he opened the package. It was a beetle burger biscuit 'egg-wich' with double cheese. "Aww," he said wistfully. "That’s real sweet, Judy. Thanks.”

“Well, it’s the least I could do,” she offered, meaning to brush the compliment aside.

Wanting to savor the treat while he could, Ben took only a small bite. “I gotta say,” he offered, cheering a little, “it’s too bad for Nick. Any guy would be lucky to go out with you.”

Judy blushed.  _Too bad I'm a career doe,_  she thought.  _Maybe in a couple years, but not right now._  "Thanks for the vote of confidence," she replied, heading for the briefing room.

It wasn't even a full minute before Bogo came along. Clawhauser had just finished the sandwich, eating slowly (well, slowly by his standards) to enjoy the flavor and calories.

"Clawhauser," the water buffalo rumbled, "what is that?"

"Uh, a biscuit beetle-burger egg-wich," the cheetah replied nervously. "With cheese, sir." Bogo had been watching him like a hawk to make sure he stuck to the doughnut deal, and caught him trying to sneak sugary treats the previous day. Buzzing him on the intercom mid-snack, showing up in person, and even plucking doughnuts from the cheetah's paws had been shockingly effective. Poor Clawhauser had been too scared to even sneak a visit to the doughnut shop before work that morning.

"Mm-hm. Open your mouth." Leaning in towards the cheetah's agape maw, Bogo took a sniff and grimaced. "Alright, but brush your teeth before it gets busy in here."

Ben wilted. "Yes sir."

Roll call in the ZPD played out pretty much as usual. The chief briefed them on a few new updates; reported sightings of suspects here, possible night howler labs there, and so on. He dispatched officers, but strangely said nothing to Judy until the bullpen was otherwise empty. Then he regarded her, pushing his glasses up on his face with one finger. "Hopps, I looked at your progress report. With your track record, I expected something more... substantial."

Judy had to admit – if only to herself – that she felt much the same. However, she put on a bold face and tried not to let her nose twitch as she gave her reply. "I've been establishing contacts all around the city, sir; getting as many eyes out as I can for Ramses and the other suspects."

Bogo's expression didn't lighten. "The last time I gave you two days on a case, you found fifteen missing mammals – one of them before a report had even been filed on his disappearance. Now you've taken two days to  _not_  find three sheep wanted for questioning."

Well, when he was right, he was right. Still, it wasn't like the missing mammals had been actively avoiding detection. "Hate to argue, chief, but it  _did_  take three months to actually get to the bottom of that case even after I found the missing mammals."

Clearly, Bogo wasn't mollified. "Yes, well, in three months there's no telling  _what_  kind of damage these sheep might do. I want them found, Hopps, before they can strike again. That's an order."

Judy nodded. As abrasive as Bogo's manner was, she knew he was right. The city was depending on her, perhaps now more than ever. Just because the immediate crisis was over didn't mean the case was solved. For all she knew, Doug, Jesse, and Woolter might try something even more drastic now that the plot to turn the whole city against the predators had failed. "Don't worry, Chief. I'll bring them in."

Bogo's forehead creased as he turned his attention to something on his clipboard. "It's my job to worry, Hopps. Dismissed."

* * *

Judy found Nick already at the front desk. The egg-wich must not have been as effective as she had hoped, because Clawhauser was all but begging Nick to say that he and Judy were a couple. He had gotten so bad that other cops were staring; some with pity, but mostly snickering.

Stepping in, Judy took a spot between the guys. "Ben, I realize this is hard on you, but it's not happening. Nick and I are just friends, and besides, he's got a girlfriend."

Nick lifted his paws and let them drop in frustration. "Carrots, she is  _not_  my girlfriend! We crossed paths, chatted a bit, and I gave her a lift home. That's all."

She could have fired off any one of a half-dozen teasing remarks to this, but Clawhauser posed a more immediate concern.

"You mean there's hope?!" asked the cheetah, who hadn't looked so ecstatic since he'd gotten his spot at the front desk back – and been greeted with box upon box of doughnuts. Before anyone could so much as speak, he was halfway out of his workspace. "Oh,  _yes!_  I've gotta tell Bogo!"

"Clawhauser!" Judy cried, catching hold of his tail in an effort to stop him. She might as well have tried to stop a runaway train with a fishing rod. Cops all around stared and then began to laugh as the cheetah raced off like the place was on fire, with Judy alternately dragging her feet and being whipped outward around corners like a kite unable to quite make liftoff. As they vanished in the direction of the chief's office, one sound rang through the station.

"CLAWHAUSERRRR!"

* * *

It was hard for Nick not to guffaw as he rode along to Judy's destination. The bunny was uncharacteristically quiet, her uniform was a bit out of place, and even her fur was off-kilter (how that was possible at such a short length, he'd never know). Topping this frazzled form, her tight-lipped mouth and furrowed brow couldn't have expressed her displeasure more loudly if they'd been in a close-up on an IMAX screen. Getting a lecture from Bogo, trying (and failing) to corral a crazed cheetah, and fighting to make herself heard over said cheetah had  _not_  been her favorite way to start the day.

Of course, Nick  _had_  to find some way to make it worse. "You know, you probably should have just waited to discuss it one-on-one with old Buffalo Butt after Benji had blown himself out."

She fumed in response with such intensity, one could almost see smoke coming out of her nostrils. The fact that he was probably right didn't help much – and neither, for that matter, did a suspicion in the back of her mind.

"Did you tell Ben that Taelia wasn't your girlfriend just to set him off?" she demanded.

Nick's eyes opened wide, his jaw dropped, and a paw flew to his chest in a very dramatic wounded look. "Would I lie about that  _just_  to make you chase him down?" His hurt look turned back to a sly grin as she fixed him with one glaring eye. "Well, I didn't. But if I had tried, I couldn't have done- OW!" Judy's fist had lashed out, dealing a solid blow to his arm.

Judy tried to console herself with some banter. "Well, I know it even if you won't admit it,  _Junior Detective_ ," she quipped.

He rolled his eyes, massaging the bruised bicep. "Look, I'm sure that in Bunny Burrow, lunch together and a two-block drive means it's time to plan the wedding, but here in the big city we have this thing called casual dating."

"Oh, please," Judy muttered, letting out an exasperated breath. She was too annoyed – particularly with the species-ist quip – to even notice that Nick had just admitted to a lunch date. "Rabbits are  _not_  that fast-and-furious about relationships. The only time we plan the wedding  _that_  soon is when little girl bunnies want to annoy a big sister – something  _I_  haven't done since I was ten."

"So, all of two weeks ago?" teased Nick, hastily dodging another shot to the arm. "Hey, hey, distracted driving, Carrots."

She returned her attention to the road. He considered the possibility that it was time to change subjects.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked, folding his arms behind his head.

"Well, until something else comes up, I thought we should check out the three mutton-keteers' apartments. The police have them marked off for investigation, so with none of your contacts bringing anything in yet, it's probably our best bet."

"What, the forensics lab hasn't checked them out yet?"

She shrugged, feeling a little more at ease now that they were on a business topic. "They did. I want to see if we can find something they missed."

He grinned. "Ah, you're running low on ideas and want to draw on my talents to cover it up. I wonder what Benji would say about that?"

She winced – not because he had zeroed in on the biggest blabbermouth in the department, but because he had just tried to blackmail the  _very_  wrong bunny. "Well, I wonder what he – or some  _other_  mammals you know – would say about the songs you keep in your phone."

That fox hadn't looked so bleak since she introduced him to the carrot pen. "You wouldn't dare."

She just laughed and started humming, 'Can You Feel the Fluff Tonight.'

He groaned.  _I wonder if this is the real reason rabbits used to be on so many mammals' menus,_  he mused.

* * *

They headed to an apartment building in one of the less trafficked areas of Savannah Central, not far from Meadowlands; prime sheep territory. The building – which looked like it might have been designed by the same shoddy architect responsible for Pangolin Arms – sat in a cluster of ramshackle structures nestled away among a tangled knot of back streets. Within were two apartments which had once been home, respectively, to Jessie and Doug. Woolter's place was only a block away. The sidewalks were considerably more litter-strewn than most areas of the city, and wrought-iron fences were to be found barring access to nearly every private home in sight. At one or two spots, dark stains adorned walls as if someone had tagged them not with paint, but with black dye shot out of a squirt gun.

"What  _are_ those?" asked Judy, wrinkling her nose as they walked past one such spot on their approach to the apartment complex. The smell was like cigarettes steeped in swamp water.

"Tobacco juice," Nick replied calmly. "Some of the... less classy mammals around like to do it – and since it's technically not graffiti to spit on a wall, they can do it all they want as a way to leave their mark."

While Judy scowled at the idea, Nick continued to survey the building in front of them. By his assessment, the place was beneath the notice of most upstanding citizens, yet no more than five minutes from some of the city's most metropolitan areas; maybe two minutes if one would chance the back alleys on foot. Not only that, but the tall buildings nearby would let someone survey a massive chunk of the city. He related these thoughts to Judy, asserting that it would be an ideal place to pick out a target and radio their location to someone like Doug.

She stared at him a little uneasily, ears dipping and nose twitching. "Do you think like that  _all_  the time?" she asked.

He coughed. "No... but I  _may_  have talked with some hit-"

" _La_  la la la," she cut him off, singing off-key. "Don't tell me. I  _might_  have to testify later."

The fox coughed. Judy's wariness – while sensible – reminded him again of his many friends on the wrong side of the law. He pushed the thought away. "Right," he replied. "Let's go."

The two of them paused at the door to Doug's apartment to put on rubber gloves, and Judy let them in with a key supplied for the investigation. She also handed Nick a folder full of photos which, she explained, showed the apartment before anything had been seized as evidence. Then she picked a corner and leaned against the wall to watch him do his thing.

Nick searched, comparing what he saw against the photos. Doug's computer was gone, along with several pieces of chemistry equipment and most of the kitchen items as well. A bookshelf was largely undisturbed, although the phone book had been removed – no doubt in search of circled numbers.

He jerked a thumb at the bookshelf. "See if there's anything in those books; you know, like notes, a business card used as a bookmark - that kind of thing. It happens, trust me. Oh, and look for pinholes in the pages. Sometimes they mean something."

She made for the shelf. "I didn't know about the pinhole thing," she admitted. "Do a lot of crooks use that?"

"To my knowledge, mostly pirates," he admitted, devoting his eyes to his own search. "I read about it in a book on hidden treasure when I was a cub, but you never know."

Judy set to it, glad to have something to do. She thumbed through several books on chemistry, all of which were college or post-grad level. Most of the material was gobbledygook to her, which admittedly wasn’t terribly surprising. The knowledge cops needed when it came to chemistry had more to do with figuring out when someone was running a drug lab or concocting home-made poisons, not distilling ornamentals. So far, the use of night howlers in the recent case was unique, so there was little common ground there.Thankfully, the plants were not in use for recreational drugs either – not unless one counted the 'romantic effects' of Poisson's products, anyway. The books on botany and horticulture were, at least, more to her liking. She had a good working knowledge of both, and several of the books were thoroughly illustrated with impressive diagrams and blueprints. Some of them she had even seen  _in situ_  on her family's farm, and one or two of the designs struck her as worth remembering when she next spoke with her parents.  _Who knew my police work might benefit their farming?_  she mused, enjoying the irony.

Unfortunately, none of the books yielded any discernible clues to Doug's location. Nick also struck out after hours of scouring, so after a brief lunch break at a nearby diner, they moved on to Jessie's apartment on the next floor. This time, opening the door met them with a scene of veritable chaos.

"How could someone be so messy with so little stuff?" Judy wondered aloud. Looking through the photos of the place had done little to prepare her for its disastrous state, which looked like a whole family of tornadoes might have come there to die. It was a one-room apartment like Judy's, with few items fit to call 'belongings.’ A doorless closet housed maybe three shirts hung up and a mess of other clothes on the floor. A ratty-looking TV stood by, plus a haphazard shelf of roughly a third of Jesse’s videos and DVDs; most of the items in question actually stacked in odd places around the apartment. A sheetless bed sported a couple of blankets, and the pillow was over by the DVD shelf, evidently having been used as a weapon against the alarm clock. Yet for the overall lack of actual possessions, the place was all but bursting with a hoard of cans, newspapers, magazines, and takeout containers empty except for a few bits and pieces of now-inedible vegetation. Posters of female mammals her mother would have screamed at hung so haphazardly on the walls that they must have been sloppy on purpose. To top it off, the room reeked of liniment and one or two odors Judy didn't recognize – which, she suspected, just went to show that ignorance really was bliss.

Nick walked in like he owned the place. Glancing over his shoulder at Judy, he remarked, "You can wait outside if you want." Evidently he had sensed her unease.

She frowned, not sure if Nick was making the offer to spare her the ordeal or needle her like he had the last time he made such an offer. Part of her was tempted to accept. For one thing, she was pretty sure all of her hundred-plus brothers wouldn't have made this much of a mess if they had a whole month. For another, while the posters weren't  _quite_  as bad as what she'd seen on her first case (if only for lack of depth), some of them were pretty raunchy. On the other paw, she figured she'd have to get used to dumps like this if she was going to make a career out of investigating criminals. "Can't do it," she replied, covering her discomfort with a glib smirk she'd learned from Nick. "Technically, you're not a cop. I can't leave you unsupervised,  _Junior Detective._ "

"Ha, ha, and also ha," Nick retorted sarcastically, and he began sifting through the junk on the floor.

"What are you looking for?" asked Judy, hoping she could help. She had a few ideas; mail and receipts would be key in this case, since they might yield clues as to places where the conspirators had held meetings or bought equipment and supplies. The sheep had been difficult when it came to information (and their lawyers had been even more so), but from what the ZPD had gathered, Jesse had done much of the running and fetching. That said, Nick had one thing she lacked: a paws-on knowledge of the criminal mind. A single hint from him would probably be worth at least a chapter of the reading she had done at the academy.

The fox shrugged. "Mail, receipts, junk like that. Anything to tell us his favorite hangouts or shopping places."

Judy rolled her eyes heavenward with a beleaguered sigh.  _Then again, maybe not._

Looking around, her gaze fell on a small container that was shaped like a laboratory vial or beaker, but made of metal. Curious, she picked it up and unscrewed the cap.

" _Eeee-ugh!"_  With a disgusted cry, she threw it across the room. A green, foul-smelling liquid flew out of the beaker, scattering along its course. Judy started gagging, fighting with all her might to keep from throwing up.

"Carrots, what the- gack!" Nick got a whiff of the stuff too, and instantly looked ill. Holding his nose with one paw, he wrapped the other around Judy, who seemed to have gone dizzy from the stink. He half-walked, half-dragged her to the door, shutting it behind them with a loud 'bang.'

Free of the repulsive odor, the bunny started to recover. "Oh, what  _was_  that?! One of Doug's experiments? It smelled like essence of skunk!"

Nick coughed a little. "Trust me, Carrots, skunk spray is worse... a little." It sounded as though he spoke from experience. "I think you found some Wheat-Grass Whiskey."

"Some  _what_?" Judy had never heard of the stuff.

"Booze," Nick replied more simply. "It's the alcoholic answer to Limburger; worst-smelling stuff on the market, and it tastes even lousier than that."

She made a face. The stuff smelled like some kind of chemical weapon. How anyone could put it in their mouths was more than she could imagine. "You've tried it before?"

He answered reluctantly. "Once... in high school. Someone bet me fifty dollars I couldn't hold it in my mouth for ten seconds."

"And you went through with it?"

"Let's just say I'm the only guy I know who's ever spent fifty bucks all on mouthwash in one go – and my girlfriend still dumped me when she got a whiff of my breath the next day."

Judy winced, then thought of something. She opened her mouth to speak...

"And no questions about my love life, please."

She frowned. "I was going to say that if we ever went to schools to do those 'don't do drugs' talks, you should tell that story."

He sighed. "You are hopeless," he muttered.

The bunny cop rose to her feet, rubbing her nose as if to clear away the last vestiges of the smell. "The landlord is already ticked that he can't rent out the apartment until our investigation is closed. He's going to have a fit over that mess."

This was met with a shrug from the fox. "Well, at least we've got a clue."

"We do?"

"Yep. Very few mammals – even prey – have a taste for Wheat-Grass Whiskey, so not many places sell it. That means if we check out those places, we might find a lead to our ram."

Judy thought about that. "Got anything more helpful?"

The smirk she got in reply said it all. "Do I have an address?" asked Nick, holding up a matchbook. "Yes. Yes I do."

Judy regarded the matchbook. "Cloven Hoof Bar," she read off the front. "Yeah, one of the main watering holes for sheep and goats. We checked it out. Bogo's got our IT guys watching the traffic cams around it for any sign of the sheep we want. Nothing so far, and we don't have enough evidence to get a warrant."

Nick laughed. "Ah, my dear, naïve little bunny," he chided. "Who said anything about a warrant?"

She grinned, feeling good enough to ignore the 'naive' remark. "Let me guess. You have a friend who can get in unnoticed?"

"I know everyone," Nick replied glibly. Then, more thoughtfully, he added, "But I can think of one guy in particular who- oh." He pulled out his phone as it buzzed in his pocket, pressed a button, and frowned. "Aw, fudge," he uttered.

"What's wrong?" asked Judy, trying to get a look.

Nick quickly covered the phone with his free paw. "Well, I, um... yesterday I didn't think you would need me this long, and I, um... I kind of made plans," he finished weakly, closing the screen and pocketing the phone.

Judy scrunched her face in confusion. "Plans? What kind of plans?"

Had it been anyone but Judy, Nick would have enjoyed the irony. "Well, you remember a certain vixen I texted last night when you wanted me to annoy someone else for a change?"

It took even Judy a moment to find words for that. "Oh, sweet cheese and crackers," she muttered. She knew in the back of her head that she'd laugh about that bit of backfiring later, but at the moment it was a little too annoying for that.

Nick pulled out his phone again. "I guess I'll have to tell her something came up, and-"

"No, don't do that," she interrupted, putting both paws on his arm. "If you said you'd do it, then do it. I'll wrap up here."

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking at her uncertainly.

She let go, waving one paw. "Yeah, I'll take care of things here. Have a good time." Then as she watched him go, her more spirited side rebounded a little and she decided to get in one parting dig. "Just don't forget your deodorant, okay Junior?"

"Ha ha, very funny," he called back, pausing to double-check as soon as he was sure he was alone.

As he was on his way to a takeout place en route to Taelia's, Nick started dialing to call his order ahead. Before he could finish, though, another call came in. He recognized the number. "Hey Taelia," he greeted. "What's up?"

"Hi Nick. Are we still on for tonight?"

He shrugged. "Last I checked. I should be there in about forty-five minutes. Why, did something come up?"

"No. More the opposite, actually. I was wondering, would you be up for something besides just watching the show?"

Nick puzzled over this, hampered by the fact that when he had agreed to the date he'd also been contending with other texts and waiting for Judy to leave her apartment unguarded. "Depends, I guess."

"Well, I'll let Xavier explain. He likes to do the talking, and I have to hurry and get ready – but I told him you were coming and we think you might be helpful for our latest project."

He stopped.  _Interesting remark. Slightly sinister,_  he thought.  _Last time I heard that I ended up getting shot at._  He did his best not to sound uneasy. "Guess we'll find out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. What do you suppose this project's all about now?  
> Thanks for the support, everyone. It's been a blast putting together Nick's and Judy's parts. I don't think I've had this much fun with any two characters in years (Bogo and Clawhauser are fun too). I also think this is my longest chapter yet, and hopefully the next will follow fairly soon since I have it pretty well planned out. So what do you think is ahead for Nick: a dream date, or a nightmare?  
> I have a confession to make about the love triangle remarks I made previously; this "love triangle," like the movie itself, is about way more than just Nick's love life – although, as you can see, that will be coming up. My main point is that Nick is ultimately struggling between self-love and others-centered love; whether he'll continue on his new course or go back to his old ways of living. How Judy and Taelia - and Vanya, for that matter - will impact that... well, that remains to be seen. ;)


	9. Music to my Pointed Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick meets up with Taelia to meet some friends, and finds a surprise waiting.

**"(I have no) data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts."**

**Sherlock Holmes,** _**A Scandal in Bohemia** _ **by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle**

 

The loud drone of a hairdryer competed with a playlist from Taelia's impressive collection of music as the vixen finished ridding herself of moisture after a shower. Draped with a towel, she shook her head to enjoy the remaining heat before setting to work on her preparations. Meanwhile, an upbeat female voice rang out from her iPaw's speakers, chiming a song about not admitting to being in love.

 

_Who d’you think you’re kidding? He’s the earth and Heaven to you._

_Trying to keep it hidden. Honey we can see._

_Oh-ooh noooo-oooo._

 

_No chance, no way, I won’t say I’m in love._

_You swoon, you sigh, it’s okay, you’re in love…_

 

Humming along, she reached into the medicine cabinet, where she kept a few little squirt bottles like one might use for nasal spray. These bottles weren’t for nasal spray, though, but perfume.

 _Now, which one?_ she mused. _Oranges?_ Then she shook her head.  _Think I'll try this one; haven't used it in a while_. Uncapping the chosen bottle, she stuck it into the fur of her neck just beside her windpipe. A light squeeze on the bottle deposited a squirt of liquid against her skin, and before she had even reached the other side of her neck the scent of gingerbread and vanilla reached her nostrils. She took an appreciative sniff and smiled. Citrus was good for most purposes, but she liked gingerbread and the vanilla would help her relax. Some mammals kept scents in spray bottles, but she preferred these. They might use it up a little faster, but she liked that the squirt bottles could deliver the liquid directly to the skin, there to be activated and spread by body heat. Besides, the sprays didn't stick long enough for her liking.

Having taken care of that little ritual, she set about brushing her fur. As usual, she groomed the fluff on her body more for shape than looks, since the main thing there was to have it sit comfortably when she had it covered up. She did experiment a little with the fur on her head, though, before sticking to the usual.

 _A little brushing, a little combing, just a touch of fur spray, and... there._  She studied herself. She looked about the same as she usually did, but the spray had given her coat just a little extra shine. It wouldn't be soft and silky, but she figured Nick would be keeping his paws to himself anyway. She got the impression he wasn't the pawsy type, which was just as well on the first or second date for her liking.

Trading the towel for a bath robe, she picked up her music player and headed into her bedroom. The apartment was a decent size for a fox den; not that different in floor space from Judy's, although a different layout and lower ceilings made it feel like a bigger area. There was a sort of common room that doubled as a kitchen and a living room, which made an ideal setup for someone who liked to experiment with food on a whim. Then there was the bathroom and, at the back, the aforementioned bedroom. A bunk bed tucked into a corner to her left had been converted into a bed below and a mini-office of sorts up top. There, an older-model computer sat amid CD racks and an old but serviceable tape player, all arranged around a camping mat so she could lie down on her stomach as she worked. It was really designed for the young of larger species, but it worked well for a grown vixen. Besides, it had been at a tag sale, and there was no beating those prices.

That, of course, was immaterial to her at the moment. Just then she had one thing on her mind: getting dressed for her date. In the back corner, next to her exercise bike – another garage sale find – she kept a rustic-built wardrobe. Made of apple wood with a mirror inside the door, it had been a graduation present from her older brother (Mom, Dad, and an uncle had teamed up to refurbish the car, which was used but very practical). She had admired good craftwork for years, but never imagined that her brother – a factory worker – would scrape together enough for something so fancy. She had all but begged him to take it back and give her something less expensive, but he and his wife had resorted to blackmail; they said they'd be very hurt if she didn't take it. Now it made her smile... at least until she opened the door, stopped and stared, and let out a despairing groan.

 _I forgot to do the laundry!_  In a flash it all came back to her. Earlier that day she had tried a new recipe, got distracted, and produced an accident which was  _really_  best forgotten. That and her efforts to recover the catastrophe had thrown her so far off track that the laundromat escaped her completely.

 _Nice, Taelia,_  she thought to herself as her eyes turned to the full hamper at the foot of her bed. With a sigh, she plunked her forehead into an uplifted paw.  _Just go and get stupid over a guy... again._ That was, it was true, a little unfair; this particular snafu had not involved Nick or any other male, though a good many other mistakes of hers certainly had.

She sighed and looked over the limited options in front of her. The dresses would generally be bad picks, as they fell into two categories. Some were too formal, loose, and long enough to be cumbersome if she had to crawl around under her band’s sound equipment. Others were too party-oriented to really work for an occasion like this, and some of these were short enough to be too pushy for her taste on a first date. All in all, none of them were really practical for band practice.

There were only two shirts to speak of. One was what she called her 'damsel in distressed' shirt: a grungy, perforated top which she reserved for cleaning, painting, and other maintenance jobs. Normally that would have been fine for band practice, especially with some well-worn jeans, but not with Nick in the picture.  _Okay, door number two it is,_  she thought, pushing that one aside for the other. The second option was in pretty good shape; a gray T-shirt she had gotten as a birthday present from her sister-in-law. Printed on the front was the slogan, 'Things To Do Today: 1. Wake Up. 2. Survive. 3. Go Back to Bed.' In her present mood the slogan felt more like a cry for help than she liked, but she did have limited options. She chose that one with some reluctance, scanning the rest of the closet to decide what might go with it.

 _Let's see._ _I_ _f I could just find a pair of pants and maybe a jacket that went well together... yeah, these should do._  She selected the items; both a shade of blue a little on the light side. They went well together, and gray went with pretty much anything. Better still, if she buttoned the jacket up enough of the way she could cover most of the slogan on the shirt so it would look more ordinary. _Just leave the top three buttons and fold the jacket open... there; casual, but covered._  The jacket and pants didn’t quite match, but she doubted anyone would notice; particularly that Nick would. It had been her experience that guys tended to notice color a lot less than girls. Their brains were wired more geometrically – or, as many tods she had known proved,  _bio_ metrically. She stuck out her tongue at the memory, then shook her head as if to shake it away like an insect on her ear.

Having put herself together, she studied the effect in the mirror. It wasn't overly dressy, but it didn't look slap-dash either.  _I guess it'll do,_  she thought. A quick roundup of her to-go items staged on the bedside table, and she could go wait in the living room. Slipping on her watch and a bracelet or two, she grabbed a bottle of pomegranate juice from the fridge. Then she grabbed a second in case Nick wanted some, giggling at the memory of the previous day's beverage escapade.  _I hope he skips the hot sauce this time,_  she thought with a smile.

While this was going on, she'd had her iPaw playing a selection of love songs of one kind or another. At the moment she came back to really noticing the background music, it was closing out a song called 'The Words I Would Say.' She smiled; that one was more a song she had put in the list because of her dad and the advice he had given her after her first bad breakup. Picking up the device, she skipped back to the start of the song; a mellow intro about someone writing a letter of encouragement. She leaned against the wall and lip-synched a refrain, though it was a bit religiously minded for her taste; remarks of divine guidance and assurance, and of strength coming from the same. For all that, it was her dad in a nutshell. From the case of nerves she got going to school on the day of an oral report to their last hug parting ways at college graduation, he had always told her not to be afraid. 'Just find your courage, grit your teeth, and plunge ahead,' he always told her. 'Remember, you're never alone.' She could practically still feel his muzzle from all the times he had kissed her forehead as he said it. She glanced over at a cluster of framed photos on a small table in the living room. One in particular was of the old reynard, his trademark warm smile emanating from behind the glass with all the encouragement a vixen could want.

"Thanks," she whispered.

The music went through a couple of other songs before a knock came at the door.  _That must be Nick,_  she thought. "Just a minute!" She sniffed and decided the scent from her failed experiment had dissipated enough, so she turned off the fans in the windows: in on one side of the room, out on the other. Then she cast a final glance around to make sure everything was in order, which it was. Nick had mentioned the night before that he'd be bringing takeout, so she had gotten the place cleaned up, figuring they could eat there before going.

She opened the door. "Hey," she smiled.

He grinned, holding up a paper bag and some white paper boxes with wire hangers. "Hey yourself," he replied. He was dressed much as she had seen him the day before, though with a more toned-down shirt. This one was two shades of blue, with sailboats and dolphins visible if one looked closely enough.

She stepped aside. "Come on in. There should be enough time to eat before we go to practice."

As Nick stepped inside, the iPaw changed songs again.

_I can see what's happening._

_What?_

_And they don't have a clue!_

_Who?_

He stopped, an odd look coming over his face as the ditty continued. "Uh, did someone tell you to have that song playing?" he asked.

She frowned, turning off the music. She liked the song, of course, but decided not to push the mood too much. 'Getting to Know You' would have been better at the moment. "No, I just had it on shuffle. Why?"

Nick shook his head.  _That darn bunny's got me every way I turn,_  he thought. "Eh, I'll tell you some other time. You like Boariental?"

She smiled, partly because of him and partly because of the scent of shrimp coming from one of the boxes. “Why, do you have ancestors in the East?”

He huffed out a chuckle. It wasn’t the best banter he’d ever heard, but it was worth that much. “I was talking about the food, but yeah, I think I might.”

Taelia cocked her head. “Really? Hm; who knew?”

* * *

The dinner was a pleasant business as the two chatted over shrimp, noodles, and dumplings. Nick got the chance to show off his chopstick skills, but pushed it too far when he tried using the bamboo utensils to flick a dumpling into the air and catch it in his mouth. Taelia almost snorted a noodle out her nose when the morsel in question landed dead between his eyes instead.

"Uh, would you believe that was part of the trick?" he asked, using a napkin to pick the dumpling off his face.

She smirked and folded her arms. "Do I look like I was born yesterday?"

"As a matter of fact, I think you look very intelligent," he replied, cleaning up his face with another napkin. He glanced around, sighted the garbage bin, and considered landing a three-pointer. He decided to go the old-fashioned route and just get up, since clowning around had already left him with egg – or dumpling in this case – on his face once.

Taelia kept an eye on him, appraising his actions, his demeanor, and his words. She could easily believe he had worked in sales. His collected manner exuded charm and confidence, which she knew quite well to be vital in the persuasive art of marketing. At the same time, he clearly had a playful side which interested her a good deal more than his professionalism. She had known a consummate professional once, and he had been rather dull all around as well as a pretty convincing liar. Taelia had decided after that that there was simply no sense in entertaining a guy who didn't have a sense of humor, but it was clear Nick had _that_ requirement more than covered.

They finished the takeout and juice in plenty of time to head out to the meeting.

"Just out of curiosity," Nick ventured as they passed by Taelia's car, "how did you end up with a car that big?"

She shrugged. "Well, it was from Ellen, actually – you'll meet her tonight – back when I started college. She had gotten a new car as a present, I needed to get around, and it was pretty easy to set this one up for someone my size, so she gave me a good deal on it." Due to the range of animal sizes in Zootopia, it wasn't unusual for larger cars to be outfitted with systems that let smaller mammals use them. The lower chances of getting run over by bigger vehicles were an added advantage, and that was often enough to win over customers even when a smaller vehicle cost less.

Nick put a paw to his chin. "So you went to college. What'd you major in?"

"Music. Minored in computer science."

 _Hmm, Hindsteinette._ "Nice."

"Thanks. What about you?"

Nick decided to shift the focus away from that question. He had read up more on marketing than most mammals he knew with degrees, but the truth was that he'd basically bought his bachelor's. "I studied marketing and finance," he replied, stretching the truth. "So are you going to tell me what this project's about?"

She smiled and made a show of thinking, then shook her head. "No, I think I'll keep you guessing."

"How about a hint?"

"Hmm, no."

"Not even a little bitty hint?" His pleading voice was subtle enough that Judy would have been impressed, yet wheedling enough to put Clawhauser to shame.

Taelia smiled.  _He's good,_  she thought. "No, but keep trying. It's fun to watch."

Nick huffed in mock annoyance. _If she and Judy ever teamed up,_  he thought,  _the ZPAcademy_ _might_ _have to pin my badge onto a straightjacket._  "Well, what about telling me some about your friends, then?"

She glanced at him curiously. "What's the hurry? You'll be meeting them in a few minutes."

 _Yeah, and I'm worried that some of them might actually know me,_  he thought. He chose his words carefully, weighing how to approach the matter without betraying his motive. Experience told him that a 'vulnerable guy' schtick was the way to go; much like the one he had applied to Judy in Jumbeaux's ice cream shop. "Well, I have this problem with meeting strangers – in groups, I mean," he clarified, spreading his paws disarmingly when she raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I don't know how, but I just have this knack for finding mammals' red buttons. So just in case that happens, I prefer to know if there's... oh, I don't know, a joke I should stay away from or some subject I shouldn't bring up... you know, the little stuff."

Taelia thought about that, and she could certainly empathize with worries about stepping into a social hole. "Well, my friends are pretty easygoing, especially if someone shows up with me. I  _guess_  I should warn you not to stereotype Vicky, though, or joke about her beads."

"She wears a lot of them, I take it."

She shrugged. "Yeah, a lot of mammals think she's some kind of hippie."

"Right. Um, what species is she?"

"Hyena."

"Ah." Nick had met his share of hyenas, and knew better than most just how risky it was to get on their bad sides. "Don't stereotype the hyena. Got it." He ran a mental check. As far as he could recall, he'd never done 'business' with anyone matching the description, although chances were he had sold her a pawpsicle or two at some point. "Anything else?"

They continued in this manner as they made their way into more residential areas. In the process, Nick learned that the Xavier of whom Taelia had spoken earlier was a gray wolf and the only guy in the band. He took a pretty dim view of ‘locker room’ jokes about that arrangement, or any negative remarks about the military.Also, he and his wife Isabelle  _really_  didn't like to be asked why they had no children. Taelia's tone was pretty dour as she mentioned this detail, leading Nick to guess it was a medical thing. Nicole – a red wolf – only got really mad if she saw someone being picked on.

"And then there's Ellen," Taelia concluded. "She doesn't have a red button, really, but I should warn you about her. She grew up on Outback Island, and most of her friends were kangaroos, so she's a little..."

Nick guessed she was trying to sidestep an obvious joke, and decided to just fill it in. "Jumpy?"

She snorted and flicked back her ears. "Yeah, that joke gets around. She's energetic. You get used to it. There's not much need to watch your step with her, but don't take any coffee she offers you.” Giggling, she added, “At least if you plan on sleeping in the next forty-eight hours."

 _Sounds like she could get a side job with the ZPD,_  thought Nick.  _She and Clawhauser would get along just fine._  He mulled over the names and descriptions, and although the lack of surnames made it hard to be sure, he couldn't think of anyone he knew all that well matching what Taelia described. He'd probably recognize their faces. He was better with those than names, and in his previous line of work he had seen most of the faces in the city.

 _Not Taelia's, though,_  he thought to himself, checking her out on the sly.  _I'd remember._

She was looking too, and she definitely liked what she saw. Clean-cut features, green eyes – she liked green eyes – and a nice jawline framing his face. He was a little on the skinny side, but most foxes were. Besides, if he was going to be a cop he'd probably fill out some.  _Nice guy_ and _nice looks,_  she thought to herself.  _Face it, Taelia. You just hit the jackpot._

She mentally shook her head.  _'Whoa, girl,'_  her annoyingly familiar voice of reason told her. Most mammals had an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other; she had an introvert and an extrovert, and right now the introvert was giving her a lecture.  _'Don't get your head in the clouds just yet. Don't forget -'_

 _'Hey, hey, hey!'_ argued her inner extrovert.  _'Cut it out, Queen Killjoy. There's no sense in returning to the past now. Move on to tomorrow already.'_

Mercifully, the argument was cut short by their arrival at Xavier and Isabelle's house. As they walked in, Nick noted the name 'Moonbeamer' on the mailbox and was a little more relaxed when it didn't ring any bells.

Inside, the house was pleasant enough. The walls were a hue just a few shades lighter than pine green – more deep than dark – with a curious texture of very thin lines which showed a white underlayer and reminded one of wood grain. Immediately inside the front door were two staircases: on the right, one led down to a T with a doorway to the right of that and a hallway to the left about which Nick could tell nothing just at the moment. To the left of the front door, a shorter flight of stairs led up – most likely, he guessed, to a living room. He could hear chatter from up there.

"Hey everyone," Taelia called.

"Hey, Taelia!" exclaimed a voice which was definitely female. Whoever it was sounded as if she'd been waiting for the vixen like a coiled spring waiting to pop loose. "Who did you-?"

The voice stopped as a female dingo, sandy in color, appeared at the top of the stairs. Wearing a pair of black knee-length yoga pants and a sleeveless blue shirt, she looked like she might have jogged to practice just because she could. Her ears shot up when she saw Nick, and she whipped her head to her right towards someone out of Nick's view.

"Xavier, you didn't tell us Taelia’s friend was a guy!"

A male voice laughed from the room above. "That’s because I wanted you to save your voice for practice. You two, come on up. We can socialize a bit before we get rolling."

Along one side of the stairs, a set of smaller steps had been set down over the top of them as an evident courtesy to smaller visitors. Taelia followed these, the height difference making the bounce in her strides more evident. Nick followed, not sure how to feel about it when Ellen leaned over and remarked to Taelia, "Nice find. He's cute."

The vixen raised an index finger in warning. "Remember,  _I_  saw him first." She glanced over her shoulder at Nick and shrugged helplessly.

As Nick ascended the stairs, he casually noticed an array of photos prominently featuring a dark-furred wolf engaged in an array of activities. Between the military uniform in one and the numerous manual jobs seen in many of the rest - along with an eye patch - he surmised that the canine in question was a veteran. There was little time to ponder that, however, for at the top of the stairs, Nick found himself facing just the assortment of mammals Taelia had described. They were seated in an assortment of recliners around a modest living room, and at a glance all looked reasonably approachable. Nicole wore white slack shorts and a pink top, and her fur was on the long side for a red wolf. With the right fur coloring she could be mistaken for an oversized vixen, albeit her legs were a bit longer than Taelia’s compared with the rest of her body. She smiled when Nick's eyes passed her way in a quick scan of the crew, and her right paw lifted in a suggestion of a wave.

Vicky was wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans, and the longer fur on top of her head was adorned with sky blue and light green beads. Typically of her species, she was a bit more muscular than the other females in the room; however, the obvious differences made her gender clear enough. She regarded Nick's presence in a pretty neutral manner, evidently reserving any overtures – positive or negative – until he made an impression. Nick, for his part, did a slight double-take at her. He could swear he didn't know her, but there was  _something_  familiar about the hyena. The fact that he couldn't place it made him nervous; loose ends had caused him trouble more times than he cared to remember.

As for Isabelle and Xavier, he could have guessed they were married just picking them out of a crowd. They wore matching blue jeans – not quite distressed, but worn some at the knees – and rather form-fitting red shirts. At first glance Xavier might have passed for the veteran in the photos on the stairwell. The absence of an eye patch and greater presence of gray in his fur, however, marked him as most likely being the cub in several of those pictures. _Must be the old vet’s son,_ Nick surmised. Isabelle – a light gray she-wolf – considered Nick with a rather skeptical look. It reminded him of the reception he'd gotten from his would-be senior prom date's parents back in high school (would-be because said girlfriend broke up with him two days before the prom over the Booze Breath Incident).

Xavier, on the other paw, rose and greeted Nick with a grin made all the brighter by the contrast of his well-kept teeth against his very dark gray fur. "You must be Nick." In customary big-to-small etiquette, he crouched just a little when he got close. He would have had to sit on the floor to get eye-to-eye, but he generated a slightly less imposing image anyway when he stuck out a paw. "Taelia's told us some interesting things about you."

Nick half-coughed and shook the offered paw, which clasped his with a firm, confident grip. "Does she tell you about every guy she dates, or am I a special case?"

Xavier shrugged. "Well most guys she's dated haven't been to our band practices, so I guess you’re a special case. Speaking of which, she says you've got friends in the ZPD, including Judy Hopps."

This was the moment Nick had been bracing for. "A few, I guess,” he answered with a shrug, as if being friends with cops were the most normal thing in the world to talk about. “Why do you ask?"

"Oh, that's great!" cheered Ellen before Xavier could explain. "We're getting ready for a-"

"Ellen," Isabelle cut her off, "was he asking you?"

Xavier just laughed. "I'm used to it. Ellen, the floor is yours – calmly, please."

The dingo took a deep breath, then launched into her explanation. "Well, maybe you already know this, but there's a benefit concert in a couple of weeks to help the mammals who were hurt in the Night Howler Incident."

"Helping cover medical costs and such," Xavier interjected.

"Yeah, yeah," Ellen went on eagerly. "Anyway, we're going to be in it, and we want our part to be a special tribute to the city's first responders – including the ZPD!"

Nick had noticed the posters and odd news article, though since he was no longer selling miscellaneous goods he had just skimmed them over. Now he was starting to get the picture, and he couldn't have been more relieved. "So you want an insider's opinion on your stuff to see if they'd like it."

"Exactly," Xavier confirmed, nodding crisply. "We're also planning a CD specially for the occasion."

"Probably gonna have to stick to pre-orders," Vicky pointed out.

Xavier nodded. "Most likely, but that's all the more reason to make it the best we can."

Nick wasn't sure how or if he should tell them that he pretty much never talked music with anyone in the ZPD. The truth was that outside of Judy, Ben, and Bogo, he hadn't talked much with anyone in the precinct. He knew Ben was gaga for Gazelle, but then anyone who had seen his desk could figure that out. Outside of that knowledge and the hunch that Judy was probably also a fan, he couldn't think of much of anything that would be any use to them.

Reminding himself that he was dealing with honest mammals, he shrugged. "Well, I don't know much about anyone's musical tastes at the precinct."

"Anything you've got is more than what we've got," Vicky put in. "None of us know  _any_  cops, and  _you_  know the one who was in the thick of it.” Folding her arms, she added, “Even if she did make a wreck of it at the start."

Nick was about to speak up on his friend's behalf, but Nicole beat him to it. "Come on, Vick. It was the only idea they had at the time. For all they knew it  _could_  have been biological, and she's apologized for it at least a dozen times now."

Actually, Judy had only made half a dozen public apologies, albeit much-circulated. Never the less, Nick instantly decided he liked Nicole. It was nice to find someone so forgiving, and all the more so in species that were used to getting more respect.

"Nicole's right," Xavier agreed. "And so is Vicky – about information, that is." He looked at Nick. "I know it’s a stretch, but we’d really appreciate anything you can think of."

Nick only needed a minute to think it over. "Well, what have you got so far?"

Xavier rose to his feet. "How about you come down to the basement and find out?"

Music critic that he wasn't, Nick soon recognized that  _Vixen_  was an impressive band. Although Nicole was generally the female lead, the other ladies swapped in on some songs depending on who had the best voice for it. Xavier, who as it turned out was effectively the manager, was a true  _virtuoso_  in the voice department as well. With him in their roster, the band needed no other male singers, as he could alter his tone clear across a range all the way from baritone to tenor. He even did a decent impression of Elkvis, one of the few musicians of whom Nick could truly claim to be a fan.

While the fox had little input to offer on the music itself, he found the lyrics much easier to assess. So far it sounded like the band already had a good lineup of songs: a very intense number called 'Hero', another less harshly-voiced one called 'Warriors,' some songs called 'Courage' and 'Ignite' which emphasized lyrics by Ellen, and a range of others. Nick was able to offer some advice here and there. For one thing, he ultimately resolved a split among them over whether to include 'Monster'. As much as he could see the connection with the whole thing about going savage, it struck him that the lyrics might cut a little too close to the bone for some of the darted mammals, should they decide to show up for the event. His biggest impact, though, came when Ellen dropped some notes. In helping to gather them up, he struck gold.

"Hey, what's this one?" he asked, catching a glimpse of something on one of the sheets. His eyes had taken in the phrase, 'Friend or foe? Before you know, let their actions speak.'

Ellen glanced at it passively. "Oh, that’s just something I freelanced for a cartoon show. It's nothing." She reached out a paw to take it, but he hastily held one up to hold her back.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on there," he argued, skimming the rest of the sheet. It was true that the lyrics did sound like something written for a cartoon rather than the quasi-edgy style the band seemed to favor. Yet the overall point – looking for the truth instead of trusting looks or rumors – fit perfectly with everything that had gone on the past three months and more. In particular, it brought to mind the press conference fiasco with Judy. "Xavier, have you seen this?" he asked, holding it up to the timber wolf. "You need to put this in the program."

"Really?" asked Ellen, pricking up her ears.

Xavier took the sheet and studied the words. "Yeah…” he said slowly and appreciatively. His head nodded with growing interest and approval. “Yeah, I could see this in there."

Ellen looked pleased, but then deflated. "But it's signed over to the station. Besides, I wrote it to be sung by hedgehogs."

"Change it up, then," the wolf answered, handing it back to her, "or write something else with the same message. Nicole, can you help her out with the sheet music?"

"Learn a new song in two weeks?" asked the red wolf uncertainly. Then she shrugged. "If you think it's that good, I'm in."

Nick wondered if this was the best time to bring up another idea, but something  _had_  been at the back of his mind. "On the subject of changing things," he pointed out, "you might want to change up the lyrics to 'Hero.' I mean I get the whole 'generic masculine pronoun' thing, but the main mover and shaker with that case  _was_  a she." He almost added that she was still at the heart of the investigation, but remembered that technically even  _he_  wasn't supposed to know that. If word got around that he was running his mouth, it could put him on even worse terms with Bogo.

Xavier rubbed his chin at the idea. "I suppose," he admitted, "but 'Hero' is one of our top-rated songs, especially after everything that's happened. Changing it now might not be such a smart idea."

The fox had a quick answer for that. "What if you did a second version – like in movies, when they have a song twice but the lyrics are different?"

"A reprisal," Taelia put in, instantly warming to the idea. "That could work. Remember when John Rarr redid one of his songs as a tribute to... oh, I never remember athletes..."

"Tim T-Bone," Nick supplied.

"Oh, I  _love_  that song!" Ellen enthused. "We have  _got_  to do that!"

Xavier mulled it over and smiled. "Well, I guess if we can pull it together in time. All those in favor?"

There was no need for Nick to break a tie this time. All were in favor.

When the practice was over, Ellen and Nicole took off to discuss the new song, which Nick surmised was to be called, 'Not Always What They Seem'. Taelia stuck around a bit longer to fix some issues she had found with the sound equipment. Isabelle detained Vicky for a few minutes to sort out some tailoring (it turned out Mrs. Moonbeamer did double-duty as wardrobe manager for the band), and Xavier took the chance to chat with Nick.

"I've been trying to place you," he told Nick as they sat on a couple of chairs. "Are you a street vendor or something?"

Though he wasn't as proud of his old job as he'd once been, Nick smiled and nodded confidently. "Pawpsicles, yeah – and I've dabbled in one or two other business ventures. You might call me a Roarnaissance fox."

One of the wolf's eyebrows lifted. "Ever think of trying the music market?"

Nick blinked. "With you guys?"

Xavier nodded. "I majored in business administration, and one of the big rules in management is not to throw away opportunities. You've got a head for marketing, Nick. We could use that."

"Well..." At one time Nick would have jumped at the chance, and probably found some way to get the best of the band. This time, though, he wasn't so sure. "Actually, I've been thinking about changing careers."

He didn't see, but Taelia looked up from what she was doing. Her surprised look perfectly matched Xavier's.

"What, you?" asked the wolf. "But you've gotta be making a killing with talent like yours."

 _Yeah,_  thought Nick,  _don't remind me._  "Don't get me wrong," he added, lifting his paws as if to push back the objection. "I'd love to work with you guys, but... I'm actually thinking about becoming a cop."

Both of Xavier's eyebrows lifted this time. "A cop, huh?" He propped a foot on one knee. "How'd you decide on that?"

Nick was a little surprised that the wolf wasn't more stunned by the idea. Most mammals would have fallen on the floor and died laughing; even most foxes he'd met. The lack of surprise struck him so much he almost forgot to make up an answer.

"Well," he said slowly, "back when I was a cub, I wanted to be part of something; to really belong somewhere, you know? Be part of a pack, I guess." If anyone could appreciate  _that,_  it would be a wolf. Up to this point he had been honest, but if he was going to avoid the whole truth – that he had been all but dragged into a future in law enforcement – now was the time to segue into a lie. "I thought about being a cop, but I realized that no one trusted foxes, so I gave up on that. Lately, though, I've been thinking maybe no one trusts foxes  _because_  there are no fox cops. So between that and Car- uh, Officer Hopps, I decided maybe it was time I did something about it."

Xavier was duly impressed. "Well," he said, smiling, "that's a heck of a life goal." He reached out and tapped Nick's shoulder with a fist. "Show 'em how it's done, dog. I get the feeling you'll do great."

The moment of nigh-brotherhood was broken as the wolf's watch beeped, and he glanced at it. "Yikes, it's getting late. You and Taelia had better get going. Tal, are you almost done in there?"

"Just a few more tweaks," came the reply. Taelia had disappeared again under the sound board. She didn't want Nick to see her until she had pulled herself together.  _There_ is _a God,_  she thought to herself.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, the two vulpines strolled through the gathering dusk, taking in the rare treat of starlight at ground level. Even in this more residential area of the city – not quite a suburb, but close enough – lights from the more metropolitan area made it hard to spot anything in the sky. All the same, they made the best of it they could, turning down an offer from Xavier to drive them back to Taelia's. At the vixen's suggestion, they detoured along a quieter route which led past a park. It was the long way home, but it was scenic… and she wanted to talk.

"You seem pretty quiet," Nick observed at one point.

Her shoulders rose and fell. She avoided looking at him; the last thing she wanted was get all emotional. Her mind was turning into a tangle of thoughts she had stopped dreaming were possible and things she wished she could forget had ever happened. "Just... just thinking," she answered, her arms pinching in against her sides as she did her best to focus on the hopes and not the regrets.

His ears pricked up curiously. "What about?"

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "Well, it's about what you said – you know, about why you want to be a cop." She spoke quickly and with determination, focusing on the words as a way to stay in control. "That’s just how I feel, only maybe from the other end."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I meet so many foxes – dogs especially – who just settle for the species reputation. Some of them even seem to enjoy it. I hate that, because it just drags the rest of us down."

Nick couldn’t help remembering the way he’d talked to Judy early on about that very subject. _'We can only be what we are,'_  his voice echoed to him. This time it sounded much as Judy must have heard it at the time: snide, bigoted, even malignant.  _'Sly fox, dumb bunny.'_

Taelia went on. "I mean... well, my dad could have been a doctor – I  _know_  he could have – but because no one trusts him he was lucky to get a job in a paper mill. And no one trusts him..."

"Because they've been conned by foxes like the ones you just talked about," Nick concluded, keeping a straight face. Part of him had to wonder how old Taelia's dad was. He knew paper mills could be tough places to work, especially for the smaller set.  _Guy's gotta be in his fifties, right?_  Another part of him, none too fond of guilt, did its best to block out the mental image.

"Exactly." Taelia didn't need to struggle now; she was in her element. She took a deep breath, and the night air somehow seemed fresher than usual. Her head turned to and fro, taking in the sights. Her eyes fell on a bench, and a thought came to her. "Nick," she asked, touching his arm, "do you mind if we sit down for a minute?"

He shrugged, glad for any change of subject. "Sure."

They sat, and Taelia tried to think how to say what was on her mind. She liked Nick a lot; she was sure of it now. Inside, she wanted him to put an arm around her or say something special, but she wasn't about to tell him that. For one thing, it would kind of kill the point.

Then she got an idea. "Oh, hey, I just remembered something. I added you to my contacts last night after you texted me, but I don't have a picture to go with the info."

"Oh." He scooted back and smiled. "Well, go ahead. Just get my good side."

She laughed a little. "Actually, I was hoping for a picture with both of us in it."

Inside Nick hesitated. This wasn't turning into the 'touch-and-go' kind of relationship he was used to, and while he liked Taelia, there was a part of him that rebelled against getting too cozy. Perhaps it was the part that preferred detachment, or maybe it was the growing belief that she'd sing an entirely different tune if she ever found out his history.

Outwardly, however, habit took over. While he was still pondering his dilemma, he scooted back up next to her and put his paw on hers on the bench. That made their shoulders feel too crunched, however, so – still questioning the wisdom of it – he put his arm around her. Her smile brightened at this, and she leaned her head just a little against him as she stretched out her right arm to take the shot. Nick, opting to play the part until a better idea came along, took one himself.

"Why waste a good photo op?" he remarked.

She smiled. "Thanks," she told him quietly. He could practically see the stars in her eyes. Heck, if he had looked hard enough he might have been able to pick out whole constellations. "I never met a guy who was willing to try like you," she said. Her tone wasn't the woozy, dreamy kind one might find in a movie right before a kiss under a shooting star. It was more a matter-of-fact tone with just a touch of 'wow.'

Then, in the odd way that thoughts go sometimes, she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, we forgot about the fortune cookies," she noted, fishing in her pocket. "I grabbed them when we left my apartment."

The cookies, as you might expect, were a bit worse for the wear. Still, she and Nick each picked a pouch, opened it, and snacked on the crumbs while reading the fortunes. Taelia blushed when she read hers: ' _Stop searching forever. Happiness is right beside you.'_  She stifled her reaction, not about to let some piece of paper get her excited... much. Still, things were definitely looking up.  _It's better than a dream,_  she thought to herself.

Nick's fortune was less direct:  _Your loyalties are clear when it comes to friends._  Suddenly the mild, sweet flavor of fortune cookie lost a bit of its savor.  _Were_  his loyalties so clear? He had left Judy treading water on her case – even if she seemed okay with his reason – and now here he was lying to Taelia. What kind of loyalty was that?

For a moment, he actually entertained the thought of telling Taelia the truth. Not the whole truth, maybe, but that he had once let the pressure drive him to, as she put it, 'settle' for being what the world expected a fox to be.

Then he shrugged it off.  _Nah, it’s over anyway._ As his older, more rationalistic side reasserted itself, he mentally added, _And what she doesn't know won't hurt me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it. Not the kind of mess you thought Nick was getting himself into? (shrug) Well surprise, surprise. Among other things, I wanted to show how it might go if Nick were alongside a vulpine who didn't take the low road. Only, what's he going to do now that his big mouth has backed him into a corner? What's going to happen if Taelia finds out the truth?  
> By the way, this chapter is another Easter Egg Hunt! I'm debating whether to keep giving clues or not, but for now I'm compromising and just making them vague. Here are the clues:  
> The songs Taelia had playing  
> Taelia's closet  
> Her assessment of Nick as they walked to practice (there are two here)  
> A remark from the inner extrovert  
> Xavier and Isabelle's mailbox (you'll want to know your American history for this one)  
> Nick's fortune cookie  
> Taelia, just before Nick's fortune cookie


	10. A Day In Review and Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI: Some readers have wondered why I'm spending so much time on Taelia and her band when they have nothing to do with the case. I usually don't drop spoilers in advance, but if this was a movie I probably would have teased this months before release. So here goes.
> 
> A big part of Taelia's role is that she's representative of the typical citizen who doesn't go looking to get involved in crime or law enforcement, but does anyway, often dragging those around them into it. How that will take place... well, that has a lot to do with her character overall. Enough said (for now).

**Simba: “So many things to tell her**

**But how to make her see**

**The truth about my past? Impossible.**

**She'd turn away from me.”**

 

**Nala: He's holding back; he's hiding.**

**But what, I can't decide.**

**Why won't he be the king I know he is?**

**The king I see inside?**

 

 _**Can You Feel the Love Tonight,** _ **from The Lion King**

 

**Edited by AngloFalcon and winerp**

 

Any stranger passing on the street would have taken little notice of the vixen making her way along the sidewalk, pushing a fold-up cart with a laundry hamper tucked into it. Someone who knew her, however, might have detected a lightness in her steps; not quite skipping, but certainly stepping with more energy and perhaps a little more swivel in her hips than usual. She wasn't quite walking on air, but there was an energy in her paws which normally wouldn't have been there if she were taking this particular route.

Usually that time of day would have found her practicing with a start-up somewhere; she generally had half a dozen or so in need of her skills. Some nights she might have been covering a concert somewhere in the city. However, she had made it a point to clear her schedule of all but the most pressing engagements leading up to the benefit concert. _Vixen_ – the band to which she had introduced Nick – were not only her number one band with which to work, but also her undisputed BFFs. After a couple of startups rose and fell during her high school years and took her along for the ride, she had joined up with Xavier and the others in college. For about ten years since then she had stuck with them, working for others when she had to in order to make ends meet, but always putting them first and always coming back to them in the end. With them, she was content.

Tonight, she was more than content; she was _elated,_ which spoke volumes when you thought about the situation. Her usual place specialized in serving smaller mammals and was situated a convenient half-block from her apartment. That one, however, would be closed by the time she got to it, so tonight she had to go to the 24-hour place three blocks over. It served a larger variety of sizes, but the downside was that their machines were more inclined to break down, especially the ones for smaller mammals. In fact, the last time she had gone there she had been reduced to asking a bull elephant if he'd let her slip her things into the extra space left in his washer. The experience had taught her more than she _ever_ wanted to know about guys' clothes, and she suspected that the elephant was somewhere still using her favorite bed sheet for a trunk wipe. Normally having to chance another mess like that would have weighed her down. Yet after her conversation with Nick – not to mention the photo they took together – she felt ready to forgive just about anyone for just about anything. Tonight she had a free schedule, her laptop was swinging in her messenger bag, and it seemed as if everything one could ask for was right with the world.

Her good mood only brightened when she reached the laundromat and found that the smaller machines were working for a change. Humming cheerfully, she loaded up two washers – one for permanent press, the other for knits and delicates – found herself a seat in the laundromat's back room where it was a bit quieter, and decided to do some work on her program.

As part of her college studies in computer science, Taelia had taken a freeware sound editing program from the internet and modified it for her own purposes. Since then, with some help from updates, she had managed to turn it into something truly special for the band. _Vixen 6.0,_ as she called it, was specialized for splitting and merging different sources of sound – mainly instruments and voices – and adjusting to ensure ideal harmonization and minimal interference. Most mammals had no idea just how much went into mixing sound to its full potential, and even her band mates were largely in the dark about how she did what she did. For all that, Xavier had been known to say with full meaning that if the band had a most valuable member, it would be her.

Moving aside some editions of _Zoogats! Mammal Magazine,_ she set up her computer and opened the program. Tonight, she was tinkering with some recordings of Ellen's voice and drums, trying to ensure that the rapid staccato beats didn't conflict with the dingo's much lighter, more fluid vocals. However, as her ears and fingers went about the task like feet out on an evening stroll, her mind was on Nick.

She _wasn't_ head over tail... or so she told herself. She wasn't about to go up to Cloud Nine over a guy – certainly not after just two dates – but for one like Nick... well, Cloud Seven, easily. No; no, seven was too easy. Eight at least...

Okay, she was hooked. _Finally,_ she thought, _a tod who steps up._ She knew it was silly; juvenile, even, but ever since she'd been old enough to look at the princesses – and the odd warrior maids – in her storybooks and ask if she would ever be like that, her mother had told her never to settle for a guy who wouldn't step up. “If he won't make an effort,” Mrs. Fangaster used to say, “then he's not worth your effort.” Taelia had outgrown the storybooks, but she had never forgotten her mother's advice.

The thing was, she had once thought of stepping up as fairly everyday stuff like putting down a newspaper to help put the groceries away – or even going out to get them oneself. Working hard to support a family the way her father (and now her brother) did, using days off to fix odd bits of wear and tear on the house, and so on. That simple kind of work ethic had been at the core of her image of masculinity. Yet after years of on-again, off-again searching, she had begun to think she'd never find a decent reynard who wasn't already taken. Heck, she had even taken a chance on one guy who lived in his mom's basement waiting for a job as a video game tester – which, admittedly, would have been tolerable if he hadn’t seemed to think it was up there with finding a cure for cancer.

Now, though, she had found the cream of the crop; a living Sir Clawain. Then she stopped herself. _No, he's not_ that _good._ Softening, she added, _He's up there, though._

She got to wondering, and from wondering t picturing, how he would look in uniform. Not the strictly utilitarian kind of uniform she'd seen on larger officers, but something approachable; _Maybe even huggable,_ she mused. _Black slacks, blue dress shirt, maybe a black tie and some of those yellow stripes on the bicep…_ _Yeah._ It was a nice picture; no question. He'd probably be putting on some muscle too, if he was going to be an officer. She hoped it wouldn't be too much, though; she liked Nick the way he was; masculine, but not overwhelmingly so. _A little muscle tone would be nice,_ she decided. _'Slim and a little bit foxy.'_

She grimaced as the words intruded on her mind like an unwanted guest who always stepped in something nasty and never wiped his feet. That line had been a favorite of her second boyfriend – one she would have very much liked to forget. She still shook her head at having been naive enough to let him get as far as he had, and then… ugh. Just letting him see her in a two-piece still bothered her even though it had been around half her life ago.

 _One more good thing about Nick,_ she thought, doing her best to fight a bad thought with a good one. So far as she'd seen, Nick was plenty respectful of a vixen's body. Though the warmth and pressure of that half-hug on the park bench still lingered, bringing with them a warmth in her cheeks, she hadn't missed how tentative he had been at the outset. If anything, he seemed a little over-restrained, which was an excess she could live with. _Give me a shy guy over a clingy creep any day,_ she mused.

Her more realistic side said that Nick _had_ to have some flaw or other, since there was no such thing as a perfect guy. _Okay,_ she thought, _So his clothes clash and he probably snores or something, but the first one's cosmetic and the second one's_ years _from being a problem._ As a kit, she had promised her parents she wouldn't sleep with a guy until she'd married him, and while she’d done her share of stupid things in life, she made it a point to keep her promises.

Uninterested in letting the past spoil her mood, she returned her attention to the recording of her friend, letting the song drown out her doubts. Short of a criminal record or an ex-wife, she couldn't think of any faults that would cancel out what she was seeing so far – and something told her Nick Wilde didn't have either one.

Not that far away, the object of her affection was laying back on his bed. Shedding his usual floral look, he was lounging in his pants and an undershirt with his arms folded behind his head and his right ankle propped on his upraised left knee.

The apartment was a nice place; nicer than his old digs, at any rate. He still remembered the look on Judy's face when she saw his old place (her fault, he figured, for waking him up at five in the morning over paperwork). Back then there hadn't been much reason to keep his standards high; if he could even find a decent apartment that didn't turn him down based on his species, his sloppy habits would most likely cost him his deposit or get him evicted. Furthermore, his previous run-down accommodations would make anyone scrap the idea that he was raking in the same amount each day as a part-time job might net in a week.

Now that he was pursuing a changed life, though, it seemed appropriate to trade up. At least, that was what he told himself when he didn't feel like admitting that Judy had badgered him into finding a better place. Better still, a letter of reference from the city's newest hero (at least to prey, which the landlord happened to be) had been enough to get him the place at rent he'd be able to afford on a cop's salary. He had even pointed out that Judy might try using her newfound clout to upgrade her own living conditions, but she had asserted that there was a big difference between helping someone else out and using her newfound standing for personal gain. All in all, it was even enough to get him to be a little tidier in how he lived – more so if Taelia dropping in ever became a possibility.

Nick's new apartment was not unlike Taelia's, except that the rooms were in more of a boxy arrangement. To the back of the main room was a bathroom which was slightly cramped, but good enough for a bachelor's use. To the left of the main room was a bedroom – again, small, but good enough considering he kept his clothes in a suitcase out of habit and thus had little need for a dresser or other amenities. Then there was a fair-sized room at the back corner of the apartment which served as a dog cave for his collection of posters and old vinyl records. He had always wanted a dog cave, although it still needed a gaming system.

 _Some_ Vixen _album art wouldn't hurt,_ he thought, though he supposed Taelia's backstage role would limit her presence in the group's visuals. A cool smile settled on his lips as he reflected that meant more for him, especially if he managed to charm her into a few snapshots. His standing with the band was nothing to sneeze at either; a whole roomful of mammals, all but one of them larger and from species of better reputation than himself, and _they_ were all counting on _him_. To even be treated with respect by such a group was a novelty, but for them look to him like that was more than he had ever imagined. It was as if he was an officer already. Heck, they had practically asked him to join without ever hearing him sing (which, with the way he sang, was probably a good thing). Who knew; he might still be able to arrange some sales for them on the side. Okay, so he had stretched the truth on a few things, (practically everything) but so far it looked like everything was going his way. Fine girlfriend: check. Decent apartment: double check. Clear conscience... okay, mostly check.

He shook his head. In the old days, he wouldn't have even thought about a clear conscience. Back then he had mainly cared about doing what it took to get ahead or not lose his head. Lying had been a standard part of his business, his relationships, and pretty much everything else. Now even stretching the truth bugged him, if only a little.

 _I wonder what Mom would think,_ he wondered, instantly wishing he could backtrack and go around that thought. He and his mother hadn't spoken in years; not since she found out about the real source of all that money he brought home to cover the bills. He had felt some sense of self-righteous indignity at the time since, after all, his 'dirty money' had been paying most of the household costs. Afterward – especially after driving past several times over the years and seeing that she hadn't been evicted without him helping cover the rent – his feelings on the matter had slipped into a kind of remorse. Lately... well, for the past several years he had simply felt an empty sense of homesickness whenever his mom came to mind.

He glanced at the phone lying on his nightstand, and he thought – not for the first time by a long shot – of calling her. He could tell her everything: that he was sorry, that he was trying to change, that he had helped save the city...

 _Yeah, like heck she'd believe that,_ he thought. Maybe if it had been just the first two, but if he told her that much she'd want the whole story and be very skeptical of it all. If he tried to make up something more believable.... no. She would know he was lying, and the small chance that she wouldn't wasn't worth the risk.

 _Maybe when she sees me in the newspaper,_ he thought. The country's first fox police officer would surely rate an article – especially if he tapped a contact or two at the Zootopia Bugler.

Of course, first he had to get into the ZPD, which would not be a simple feat by any means. _Buffalo Butt won't give me an easy time,_ he thought. It crossed his mind that he should probably stop thinking of Bogo by that nickname. He might slip up and say it out loud like he had done with his middle school principal, Mr. Roqued. Calling a mountain lion 'Principal Rockhead' to his face was _not_ a recipe for a fun afternoon. Still, he owed it to the bunny to give it his best shot, especially after he had up and disappeared on her that afternoon.

“Okay,” he said out loud. “So how do I get Judy a break in her case?”

He tried to put himself in the suspects' shoes. Quite likely they were holed up somewhere, laying low in another part of the city. When he'd been a crook and someone had begun to suspect him, he would just move his operations to another part of the city. Many times he would take advantage of conflicts between crime bosses by crossing territorial lines to hide from whoever he'd upset. These guys, though, would require a different approach. If they had any sense – and it was safe to say that Doug at least had some brain cells to spare – they had probably ceased operations altogether and were just focused on not getting caught. They might even be trying to figure out how to get out of the country.

Unfortunately, they were doing a pretty good job of not getting caught. So far the ZPD had only scant hints as to the whereabouts of their sheep on the lam, which might or might not even be accurate. More likely than not, the sheep had planned in advance to cover their tracks. Besides, he had already called a friend to check out the strongest of those possibilities, so there wasn't much point in dwelling on that.

 _So they're either very scared or very smug,_ he thought. Of course, the latter could turn into the former pretty quickly if he and Judy could just get one piece of evidence to pin the suspects the way she had pinned him. Inwardly, he warmed at the prospect of being on the giving end of such a stunt, knowing full well how they would feel once they were similarly cornered.

An idea took form in his mind. _Hmm..._

Judy was getting annoyed. _Three days of chasing down clues, and not a single suspect caught._ There didn't even seem to be a clear-cut trail to follow, despite Nick's early confidence.

For the hundredth time, she looked over the dossiers she had assembled on the sheep still at large. There were a handful of suspects involved, of which some were unaccounted for, some in custody, and some walking free after answering a multitude of questions and agreeing not to leave town. The three who had been at the subway car, though, were key. Besides that, there was the fact that she had lost them when she had the chance to bring them in if she had just called for backup. Unfortunately, that fairly textbook point had only occurred to her after several of the ZPD's officers – preds especially – had expressed a wish to get their paws on the three. She consoled herself with the fact that if she hadn't acted when she did, Bellwether would probably still be at large; maybe even still in the mayoral office. For that matter, the targeted cheetah might well have injured or even killed more mammals. Letting the suspects escape was arguably a small price to pay, but it was still a loss she was more than eager to recoup. The fact that the three would no doubt love to take her, Nick, or the both of them out of the picture was also a factor, though the truth was she fervently wished they _would_ try to pay her a visit. It would save her a lot of time and worry, for sure.

Doug was the most critical, by all accounts. His skill with chemistry and botanicals had been the linchpin of the whole plot. Even now, with the plot exposed and its political teeth all but knocked out, that sheep still had the know-how to turn any mammal in the city into a living weapon. The only thing stopping him from doing it, most likely, was that fear of the law had driven him to keep his head low.

 _If I could just get him to show it,_ she thought to herself, slapping a paw on her table in annoyance. _Some trick I could use to..._

Suddenly, she remembered something. As a younger bunny she had often read mysteries, real and fictional, to sharpen her mind and practice following clues. She recalled one in particular which, rather against the norm, had tickled her more for the detective losing than anything else. The sleuth – a wolf with a rather dim view of females – had been outwitted by a red doe even after he tricked her into revealing where she was hiding a compromising photograph.

A smile spread over Judy's face as she realized that, using the same basic strategy which had failed the detective, she might be able to turn the tables on her rogue rams.

Abruptly charged with excited energy, she snatched up her phone to call Chief Bogo. The buffalo had given her his cell phone number with the instruction to let him know the second she had a development.

She selected the number – hidden in her contacts as a cousin she didn't really have – and was about to hit 'send' when it crossed her mind that perhaps calling Nick first would be better. If she could bring him in on the idea, they might be able to use that to sway Bogo. On the other paw, she didn't want to spoil his date.

A glance at the clock reminded her it was pretty late. _Hmm,_ she thought, _if Nick's still on his date at this hour, a little interruption_ might _not be a bad idea._

At that moment, a bit of soft rock emanated from her phone, and the generic blank image she used for 'Cousin Basil S' was replaced with a characteristically smug shot of her fox companion.

 _Hm. Well, how about that?_ She accepted the call. “Good evening, Junior,” she greeted.

Nick was actually starting to get used to the nickname. “Hi Carrots. What's up?”

She leaned back and tried to sound more energetic than she felt. “Just going over the case. How about you?” Unable to resist the urge to pry, she let her voice slip into a teasing tone. “Have a good time?”

“Did I have fun? Yes. Yes I did.” He paused so savor what had to be some rather irked silence on her part over his lack of annoyance. “And I also had an idea about how to catch one of those sheep we're after.”

She blinked, surprised at the timing. “I was literally about to call and tell you the same thing. What's your idea?”

He shrugged, feeling rather gentlemanly at the moment. “Ladies first.”

With a shrug of her own, she relayed her plan, perking up as she described a world-class hustle. Nick was silent for a long moment.

“Okay, that is amazing,” he said slowly. “That was exactly what I was thinking. Did you read my mind or did I read yours?”

They never did decide which one of them was psychic, but it didn't take long to decide their plan was a winner.

"Okay," Judy announced, grinning triumphantly. "I'll call Chief Bogo right now and tell him what 'you' came up with." She emphasized 'you' in a nudging kind of tone.

"Well, thanks for the credit, Carr- wait a second, you have his personal number?"

"Uh-huh," she replied, taking the opportunity to gloat just a little. "And he specifically told me not to let _you_ get it." This was true; in fact, Bogo had been explicit on that point. The chief was stubborn and given to stereotyping, but he was no dummy.

He paused for a moment. "Just like he told you to hand over your badge?" he ventured.

She chuckled. “Oh, very nice try. See you tomorrow, Junior Detective."

"Oh, come _on_ ," he pleaded. "Do you _know_ how much fun I could have with-?"

It was too late. She'd already hung up.

Nick looked at the phone and sighed in annoyance. "Females," he muttered under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of world-building I slipped into this chapter: my thinking is that machines made for smaller mammals would be more likely to turn up out of order in Zootopia, both because of the difficulty of manufacturing and fitting smaller parts and the lower number of mammals able to repair them. This explains Taelia’s problems at the more versatile laundromat, and her preference for a smaller one. Also, small machines would probably not be as rugged. The layout of the laundromat itself draws from one I’ve used, which has a little room in the back with a table where people can read, snack, or use their laptops.  
> Thanks to public libraries, I've now had the chance to read The Stinky Cheese Caper and Other Cases from the ZPD Files. Clever plot, not the best execution of said plot, and I didn't really feel the Zootopia charm, but as a children's book I think it does a great job of (ironically) humanizing police and their work – which, looking at the news these days, strikes me as very timely. It did give me a few ideas for later in this story, so stay alert.  
> Last but not least, I have three Easter Eggs in this chapter:  
> The show which supplied Taelia's salacious ex-boyfriend's catchphrase.  
> The classic mystery which inspired Judy's brainstorm.  
> The source of Chief Bogo's fake name (hint: his namesake and Judy would make an awesome team in a fight)  
> There are a couple of other references which are vague enough I wouldn't feel it fair to list them, but kudos if you do spot them (there's a Pokemon ref in here waiting to be caught).


	11. If You Want to Catch a Criminal

** Edited by AngloFalcon and winerp **

 

“ **Sir, if you want to catch a criminal, you send a criminal.”**

** Alexander Minion, _Spy Kids_ **

 

Foxes, from far back in their ancestry, had thrived on hunting by night and staying hidden from larger predators during the day. This tended to make them late risers, especially when they’d been out on a date the previous night. Judy knew this, and she also knew that Nick was one inclined to take... _shortcuts_. That was why this morning as she made her way up to his floor, she was less worried that she might find him underdressed than that he just might have just decided to sleep in his more presentable clothes. A few of her brothers had tried that on the nights before job interviews – and, unsurprisingly, failed to land the jobs.

_Gotta make this work,_ she thought as she approached the door to his hall. She had done everything she could; laid out the plans, mentioned that she'd be coming early, tactfully left out that the reason for that was in case he decided to wear something which would discourage the chief from hiring him, and added a parting reminder to be ready.

She opened the fire door from the stairwell and power-walked down the hall toward his apartment.

“What's the hurry?”

Snapping out of her concentrated state as if someone had snatched her up by the ears, Judy had to stifle a jump. Very deliberately, she paused before turning so Nick wouldn't have the satisfaction of knowing he'd startled her. Once she felt sure enough that her surprise wasn't showing, she finally faced the fox, and there he was, leaning against a corner by the door she had just walked through. His fur was brushed, his shirt presentable, his tie knot actually covered his shirt's top button, and he was calmly sipping from a glass bottle of coffee. He even smelled like shampoo.

He paused his sipping and studied his claws. “You really should watch your sides more carefully, Officer Fluff. A less scrupulous guy could have pinched your badge.”

“Har har.” She rolled her eyes as she walked back to him and resisted the urge to slap his shoulder as he took another drink. His remark about the badge had obviously been a joke, since at the moment she was wearing a flannel shirt over her uniform so as not to draw attention. Even so, one of her paws unconsciously strayed up to where the ornament in question was concealed. She hadn't forgotten how he had swiped her keys the other day. “Let's go, Dumb Fox.”

“Ouch.” He put a paw to his chest and adopted a wounded expression. “Even 'Junior's' better than that.”

“Oh, so you _do_ prefer 'Junior'?”

“That's _not_ what I said. You want me to start calling you 'Cottontail'?”

As they made their way down the stairs, they avoided discussing their plans for the meeting with Chief Bogo. Nick's new place was in a reasonably reputable part of town, but one never knew. So Judy seized the opportunity to see if she could ruffle the fox's fur a bit.

“So, how was the _date_ last night?” she asked in a deliberately prying tone. She wiggled her eyebrows up and down for emphasis.

Nick smiled – either in too good of a mood to be bothered by the rabbit's pestering or else unwilling to let her see that he _was_ bothered. “Actually, it went quite well,” he replied calmly. “We had a bite to eat, and then she took me to hang out with her band at their practice session. They're getting ready for a benefit concert.”

Judy's ears pricked up at this – partly because she was a little surprised Nick was suddenly so forthcoming, and partly because she loved a good concert. “What band? What's the concert for?”

“Vixen – and you'd like the concert.” He filled her in on the event and the group's particular intention for their own part. “They're making it with _you_ in mind,” he added in a tone designed to make her blush.

“Wow,” she said a little slowly. She’d never heard of the band, but it was pretty flattering that they would devote a gig to her. She wasn't exactly used to being that much in the limelight. “That is really cool. I'll have to see if I can get the time off to check it out.”

He shrugged. “You could do that,” and his smirk widened by a fraction, “or maybe you could see about getting onto a security detail for it or something.”

At this, she had to shake her head. “Tempting,” she admitted, “but you're already enough of an opportunist for _both_ of us.”

A coy smirk she could feel even without looking spread along the length of his muzzle. “Well, last night sure had some opportunities,” he teased, guessing that she could take that a couple of ways.

He guessed rightly. “What does that mean?” she asked, regarding him warily and taking on a, ‘You’d better have behaved yourself, young mammal’ tone of voice.

_Good grief, she actually sounds like my mom,_ he thought.  “Well, would you believe their manager wanted to know if I'd be interested in doing some sales for the band?”

Judy wasn’t sure how to react to that. She decided not to let him know her first thought had been much what he probably wanted it to be, so she stifled her immediate reaction. “What, just like that?” she asked instead.

“Just like that,” he replied, rubing his claws on his shirt. “Turned it down, although I don't suppose it would be a problem if I did it on the side, would it?”

She shrugged as they exited the building. “Maybe, but let's talk about getting the chief to hire you first. Gotta stay focused on your goals.”

Buzzkilling aside, Judy was glad to know Nick's night out had gone well. It was nice to see him in such good spirits, and if a date accomplished that then she was all for it. All the same, there was a time and a place for everything – and now, as they walked along a street which was as of yet fairly quiet in the early morning hours, it seemed like a much better time to discuss how best to pitch 'Nick's' plan to Bogo.

They arrived well before the usual bullpen briefing, hoping to catch the chief ahead of time. If they were going to pull this plan off in a timely fashion, they needed to spend the whole day laying the groundwork. Timing was vital.

As it turned out, and as they had pretty much expected, Chief Bogo was not willing to bring Nick into his office for Judy to explain their plan. “Nothing personal,” he added in a tone which conveyed neither genuine apology nor insincerity, “but we do have a policy that only officers be present when police operations are discussed.”

Judy sagged. “Fine, but he already knows the whole plan anyway. He was the one who helped me work out the details.”

The water buffalo raised an eyebrow. “Thought as much. Still don't care.”

Judy's mouth opened to protest, but the chief waved a hoof, simultaneously cutting her off and bidding her to follow.

“Let's go, Hopps. Mr. Wilde, you can wait in the lobby.”

Unsurprisingly, Judy was fuming by the time they got to Chief Bogo's office. As she hopped up and stood on the chair in front of the desk, he settled his hulking form in the much bulkier seat behind.

“So, Hopps, what exactly is the fox's plan?”

The rabbit had to resist a protest that it was a team effort. Something in Chief Bogo's voice suggested that he was skeptical of her needing Nick as an extra brain, but for all she knew he might be trying to get her to admit she could have cooked it up on her own. “Well, we have eyes and ears all over the city looking for the sheep, _but_ we came up with a way to get the sheep – or at least one of them – to come to us instead.”

“Ah, 'we,' is it?” asked Bogo, scrawling something on a pad of paper. “So this wasn't _all_ the fox's idea.”

Judy sighed. “We worked on it together. That's our job. We're partners.”

Bogo exhaled with a breath that was loud enough to be audible, but not quite a snort. “Not yet you're not. Now go on. Tell me about this plan you two came up with.”

“Well, there doesn't seem to be any evidence at the suspects' apartments.” Judy had checked out Woolter's apartment the previous day after Nick headed out to meet Taelia. “However, if we leaked an announcement about a new lead found while investigating one of the suspects' apartments, we might be able to lure them back – where _we'll_ be waiting. We might even be able to get them to show us something we missed.”

“I see.” Bogo wasn't about to admit it outright, but he saw merit in the plan. “And where exactly does the fox play into this?”

“He pointed out that if we made the announcement to all the networks and papers, the sheep would probably guess that it was a trap. _But_ , since Nick knows the city inside and out, he can point us to the best media to make it look like an accidental leak. He can also help us when we go to set up stage two. He's lived most of his life in neighborhoods like that one.”

Bogo raised an eyebrow at this, leading the bunny cop to wonder if she had said too much. The chief knew Nick had been a great help in cracking the first part of the case, but he was still suspicious of the fox. Judy worried that anything she said might and probably would darken Bogo's view of Nick.

“It's perfectly in line with procedure to consult civilians when we're...”

Bogo cleared his throat with a sound reminiscent of a small truck starting up. “I'm aware of the department's procedures, Hopps.” He stopped and regarded her doubtfully for a long moment, rapping a finger on the tabletop.

_ Taptaptaptap. _

_ Taptaptaptap. _

_ Taptaptaptap. _

_ Taptaptaptap. _

Just when Judy thought her brain would burst, he stopped and sighed. “Alright. I'll authorize your plan-”

“ _Yes!”_ Judy quietly cheered.

“But!” he cut her off quickly, “Any part he plays will be strictly on the sidelines. He can help with surveillance and planning, but when it comes time for the arrest, I don't want him anywhere near the building.”

Judy had expected that. In fact, she felt a little insulted that he would think it necessary to remind her. While Bogo's own motivation might have more to do with his doubts about Nick, Rule One of any stakeout was to keep civilians out of the line of fire. Shrugging off her personal theories, she nodded agreeably. “And I suppose I'll be inside?” she ventured.

“Yes. We'll have you inside the apartment, and one other officer nearby for backup. Officer... Catano. She should do just fine.”

Judy had met officer Callie Catano – a cheetah at the top of her game – once or twice in the locker room. They hadn't worked together because they were on different shifts, but the female feline was friendly enough in a distant sort of way. She had, on occasion, stood as a blocker so Judy wouldn't get stepped on as she rummaged in her locker, and once she had saved the rabbit from the truly frustrating nuisance of being accidentally closed _into_ said locker. All in all, it seemed as though Callie didn't excite easily the way a certain other cheetah at the precinct, but she still sounded like a promising teammate.

However, the prospect of working with a friend – albeit a rather detached one – wasn't the reason Judy smiled triumphantly. Now it was time for the _coup de gras_ of the scheme she had worked out with Nick. She had thought it was strange that Bogo and Clawhauser had a bet – even a penalties gambit – going, so she had asked a few questions here and there around the department. Finally, Officer Wolfard 'hadn't' told her that although Bogo eschewed games of chance, he was not above using such tactics to motivate his officers to try harder. In Clawhauser's case, the prospect of getting the cheetah to present a more professional appearance had simply been too good to pass up.

As they exited the office and made their way through the lobby to contact Nick, she made her move. “I'll bet I can bring him in without backup,” she sing-songed.

He glanced at her over his glasses. “Don't give yourself too much credit, Hopps,” he replied. Still, he was no dummy. He knew well that Judy was trying to haggle, but he also knew what she could accomplish when she put her mind to it. “All the same, suppose I decided to say you're on. What would you want if you won that bet?”

Judy could hardly believe the chief had taken the bait. “Well, if I bring in whoever shows up without Officer Catano stepping in to help, you recommend Ni- I mean, Mr. Wilde for what we've been talking about.”

Bogo had to admit, he was impressed with the bunny's bravado. All the same, he shook his head. “I don't bet on hiring decisions,” he replied.

Judy's hopes dropped, but then she caught a glimpse of Clawhauser's drooping visage as they passed near the reception desk. “Well, then, how about letting Ben off of _his_ bet?”

At this, the chief glanced across at the cheetah, who looked up at what the rabbit had said. Getting Clawhauser to cut back on sweets _was_ a rare accomplishment, not to be lightly tossed away. Then again, Ben was hardly his cheerful self greeting visitors in his present state, and watching for donuts was very much a novelty game. After some thought, Bogo nodded. “Alright, Hopps. Bring in your suspect single-pawed, and I'll call off the bet with Clawhauser.”

Judy's heart leaped, and she could have sworn she heard a quiet cheer from the desk. She had to laugh at that, if only a little. “O-kay, it's a bet.”

“Splendid,” Bogo replied. “I'll expect a written proposal of the plan; you and the fox can fill it out while you handle traffic duty. I want it done and back here by lunch time so I can go over it before clock-out.”

“Written proposal? Traffic duty?” Judy was incensed. “You already approved-”

“I need it in writing, Hopps,” the cape buffalo answered, stalling her with a raised hoof. “City hall's in a mess, in case you forgot.” He turned to walk away, still talking loudly and clearly enough that, for audibility purposes, it didn't matter which way he was facing. “Besides, I've got officers doing double-time to keep this city in order. If you're going to be occupied with forms, you might as well be covering some ground yourself.”

The bunny irritably drummed her foot, feeling like she had just gone right back to Day One with the parking duty assignment. Worse was the fact that there was really no hole in Bogo's logic. Someone had to take care of the small stuff too, and it wasn't like she could do paperwork while she drove around investigating reports of Night Howler labs and suspicious sheep.

With a huff, she headed over to the desk, where Clawhauser was following her every move with his eyes.

“Thank you so, _so_ much,” he said with warmth she hadn't heard from him in days.

“Hey, it was no- _thing!”_ Her calm reply turned into a startled half-grunt as he grabbed her up into a hug that made her eyes pop. For someone in his weight class, he was surprisingly quick – and strong.

Nick, who had begun fiddling with different sounds on his phone as soon as Bogo was out of sight, glanced up and smirked. “Good look for you, Carrots,” he replied, switching apps. “I think I just found-”

His intentions were clear enough. “Ben! Down!” Judy grunted, struggling to get loose.

“Oh! Sorry!” Ben hastily dropped her, though she managed to somehow land with an ounce of dignity.

“Nuts,” muttered Nick, though he did snap a nice shot of her looking half-winded.

She caught her breath, checked quickly to make sure all her ribs were still intact, and smirked at Nick triumphantly. “Well, we'd better get going. I'll get the paperwork and a cruiser.”

Ben waved as Judy strolled off. “Thanks again, Judy!”

She waved back. “I won't let you down, Ben!” She was almost gone when a thought occurred to her. Stopping and spinning on one heel, she strolled back and asked Nick, “By the way, what was up with those noises from your phone?”

He shrugged. “Just picking a ringtone for a new contact.”

Judy's eyebrows bobbed up and down. “A 'contact,' hm? As in You-Know-Who?”

He regarded her with his eyelids at half-mast. “Do _you_ know who? No. No you don't.”

“Liar,” she teased, folding her arms. “Must be pretty serious if you're giving her her own ring tone.”

He rolled his eyes. “For your information, I give _all_ my contacts their own ringtones – at least all the ones I hear from regularly.”

“Really?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. “What's mine?”

The smirk on his face couldn't _begin_ to mean anything good – a hunch confirmed when, after a few taps on the screen, a staccato singing voice emerged from the phone.

_ 'I know a song that gets on everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves, everybody's nerves...' _

Nick wished like crazy that he could have snapped a picture of Judy's face right at that instant. _Finally got the upper paw,_ he thought, congratulating himself.

She was quick to recover, though, planting her paws on her hips. “Well, I know the perfect ringtone for You-Know-Who. It's even in your music collection.”

Nick's sudden pallor was visible even through his fur. “No no no!” he hissed.

Judy started humming. _That_ song. Again.

Clawhauser recognized it as well. “Hey, you like that song too?”

Nick wondered if he could still get Duke Weaselton to sell him a jar of live fleas. If he _could,_ Judy would have some company in her cramped little apartment very, _very_ soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. I think Nick is just itching to settle the score with Judy now. Don't suppose anyone out there would like to see a side project about them having a prank war?  
> A little explanation about Officer Catano: I can't seem to find it now, but a while back I came across what appeared to be a post by one of the filmmakers showing a picture of a female cheetah officer; evidently a piece of concept art for an unused character. I had been planning to place Officer Fangmeyer as Judy's temporary partner, but vague and conflicting accounts as to Fangmeyer's sex and even species gave me pause (Popular consensus seems to be a female tiger, though I am more persuaded by the arguments that Fangmeyer is a male tiger – which, obviously, would not work quite so well for some things). I almost let AngloFalcon talk me into it anyway, but then I realized using Officer Catano would save me from any surprises or retcons down the road. As a bonus, this expands the circle beyond just Judy and Nick in their own little clique, which for me is a lot of the fun or writing OCs.  
> Now, between the poll, the reviews, the messages, and the threats (nah, just kidding on that last one), it sounds like most everyone wants a minimum of spoilers. However, because so many readers have now become invested in Clawhauser's donut withdrawal, I will reveal this: it's not going to be easy on the poor fella, but I promise you he will make it through this one okay... eventually.  
> On one other note, I announce with regret that this is the last chapter which will be proofread by AngloFalcon for the foreseeable future. Because of scheduling conflicts, he has opted to step back from proofreading chapter by chapter. I will still consult him in a more general sense, since his advice thus far has been of such a great help to me. As for my new proofreader, he has opted to remain anonymous, but I am sure he will prove most helpful – and I'll still be consulting winerp as well.  
> Easter Eggs  
> One: Not expecting a lot of people to catch this one, but there's a bit in here borrowed from Angel Wars.  
> Two: Here's one for you Disney fans – a line from An Extremely Goofy Movie.  
> Three: There's a rather ominous bit from Doctor Who in here (I just can't stop referencing that show).  
> Congratulations, by the way, to BeecroftA for spotting the classical literature Easter Egg.


	12. The Trap is Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Judy and Nick's plan to catch a rogue ram gets underway, surprises - and danger - await.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who may be wondering, I generally imagine Callie Catano as having a voice much like that of Raven from Teen Titans. It strikes me that I haven't mentioned voice actors since Emmitt Otterton, but if anyone wants I can supply a list of other voices.
> 
> Also, I have decided to pursue the “Prank War” project once I get caught up on a few things. I’m hoping to make it a group project like Cimar of Turalis WildeHopps’ “What If” compilation, so any writers interested please message me.
> 
> And now, on with the story.

“ **Again, the prophecies of the Matoran oppose my will. Must I release those who should never see the light of day?”**

**Makuta,** _**Bionicle: Mask of Light** _

 

In a hidden room somewhere in Meadowlands, a cluster of mammals – mostly sheep and other hoofed species – sat lounging around on couches or pecking away at computers and mobile devices. None of them were browsing news articles or using social media. No; instead, they were going over blueprints, skimming databases of mammals around the city… and one, in the corner, was studying an array of chemical formulas on a desktop computer.

The door opened, and an uncommonly muscular ewe poked her head in out of a dimly lit hallway so grungy-looking that no mammal in their right mind would have considered poking around in it – which was the whole idea, of course.

“Hey, Faust,” she called. There was virtually no chance of being overheard, since the walls were soundproof, and few unauthorized mammals ever came near the door at the far end of the hall anyway. Yet the manager of the place had it on a very strict policy: code names only. The big mammal had a thing for theatrics which irked his employees to no end, particularly when the room's full-time occupants all knew each other anyway. On the other hoof, many of them would have been in jail without his protection. They had little choice but to accept his whims.

The ram at the desktop looked up with a scowl. “This had better be important.”

The ewe jerked her head. “Obearon wants to talk.”

No one ever saw 'Obearon,' the mysterious benefactor of the rogues in the secret room. Even calling him male was an assumption, as none of them had spoken to the faceless mammal directly. It was generally supposed that 'he' was of the prey persuasion, but Obearon worked strictly through proxies and the odd distorted speakerphone call. When 'Faust' – better known as Doug Ramses – had followed the ewe to a small meeting room down the hall and saw a flat square speaker on the table, he surmised that he was in for the latter. A musk deer, however, stood in the corner to observe the proceedings, with a tablet grasped in one dangling hoof at his side. His species were unusual in that part of the city, but not unknown to Doug; pint-sized deer with odd canine-like voices and a pair of large, pointed teeth that _really_ gave him the woolies.

“He's here,” the musk deer reported.

“ _Excellent,”_ came an electronically distorted voice. _“Now, Faust, I'd like a progress report.”_

Doug rolled his eyes, drawing a warning look from the musk deer. Straightening up literally and figuratively, he answered, “Well, the new formula looks like a go. I've already started mixing batches up.”

“ _Good, good. And the other part of our operation?”_

“Yeah, we covered our tracks. Even if they find the other lab, they won't be able to dig up anything they can use on us. I only left enough material behind to make it look like we abandoned the operation. I still think we should just blow it up like they did to the last one they found, though.”

“ _Do you, now? Well,_ I _decide what measures are needed, and_ when.” By the tone of his faceless boss's voice, garbled as it was, Doug had a feeling 'Obearon' was steepling his fingers. _“You are certain no one can trace us?”_

Suddenly, Doug wasn't as sure as he had been. The tone of Obearon's voice, and the musk deer's sudden tapping on the tablet screen, proved unsettling even to him. “Is there a problem?”

“ _Only what my associate is about to show you,”_ came the eerily calm reply.

The musk deer stepped up and handed Doug the tablet, which was showing a news article. The hornless ram scanned it, and his nervousness grew. The sum total of the news story was that the ZPD had found new evidence on the case – and expected to find even more – _in his apartment!_

“They're bluffing,” he asserted a little too quickly. “I never even brought any info on the scheme home.”

By the angry tone in Obearon’s voice, he wasn't buying a word of it. “ _Bluffing, you say? So you want me to just sit back and do nothing, all on the_ assumption _that_ you _left no_ evidence _?!_ ”

Doug stifled a tremor. “Hey, it's got to be a trap. You _have_ to see that. They made something up to try to lure me back there so they can catch me, and _without me_ , you can't use the-”

“ _Silence, you idiot!”_ The deafening hush which came after this was worse than the outburst itself as Doug awaited further instructions.

“ _Alright,”_ Obearon snapped at last, _“put the formula on hold for the moment. I have another assignment for you.”_

Doug was hardly Mr. Nice Ram, but as his boss outlined the new plan, even he felt some misgivings. “Well, if I had the right materials, sure, but-”

“ _Then get going. I'll get you the materials. You wanted more aggressive methods, so get to work!”_

“But my apart-”

“ _It's_ not _your apartment anymore, simpleton! You blew that when you let them find you the last time, and as I said, I decide what measures are necessary! Now go, and send me Tigerbalt!”_

The ram scowled to mask his fear, but he was in no place to argue. “Sure thing, boss,” he answered, turning to leave. As far as he was concerned, he couldn't get out of that room fast enough.

As soon as the door was shut, the musk deer coughed to signal his employer that it was safe to vent.

“ _Fools,”_ fumed the faceless mastermind. _“I'm surrounded by fools!”_ The worst of it, on his end, was that Doug was right about his place in the plan and the security it gave him. The prospect that the news release might not be a bluff was too dire to leave to chance. However, the long-term plan simply could not succeed without knowledge which Doug alone possessed. Both problems would need to be fixed... and soon.

The following evening, well after Judy would normally have finished her workday, she and Nick waited uneasily in a meeting room toward the back of the ZPD building. They would have preferred the lobby, but Nick had pointed out that any mammal might come through on some pretense and take their presence as a cue something was up. Bogo had already left for the day, but the lieutenant in charge at that hour had agreed and sent them to their current place instead.

“Gotta say, I've never been on the inside of a police sting before,” Nick admitted, trying with little success to make himself reasonably comfortable in an over-sized chair.

Sitting in an adjoining seat, Judy sipped a cup of black tea and hoped the extra jolt would prepare her for the night ahead. There was no telling when – or even if – one of the sheep would fall into the trap, which just made waiting for the team to get ready all the more annoying. She had ended her shift early and gotten a couple of hours' sleep, but she and Nick had still arrived early only to be assured that the officers preparing for the stakeout would be just fine. They both did their best not to take that as an insult.

To take her mind off of that, she answered Nick's remark. “Well, any ideas as an outsider?”

“Yeah,” he replied lightly, studying his claws. “Don't get shot.” Catching the peeved look on her face, he lifted his paws and let his frivolity drop a few notches. “Sorry. Look, you'll do fine. Chief Buff... Chief Bogo thinks you can do it, and I've already seen you in tight spots. Take my word on this as an ex-crook: short of an atom bomb, whatever sheep shows up won't have anything you can't handle.”

She had to smile at that. Nick could still be annoying on occasion, and his witty banter sometimes came at the wrong time, but behind all of that... well, she couldn't have asked for a better friend. “Alright, maybe I'm getting a little tense over nothing.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” he warned, waving an index claw. “Remember the first rule, Officer Fluff: never let them see that they get to you.” Taking a sip of his coffee, he added, “Besides, you've got Officer Catano for backup. I've run into her a couple of times, and believe me: if there was any cop out there quick enough to bring me in – besides you – it would be her.”

Judy blinked, suddenly gaining a newfound appreciation for her temporary partner. Any cop good enough to net a compliment from Nick must _really_ be something. “Wait, she almost got you?”

“Once or twice,” he admitted. “But I'd rather not get into the details.”

That was just like Nick, teasing and then cutting off the details. “No, go on,” Judy urged. “I'm all ears.”

He raised an eyebrow at the obvious rabbit joke, but shook his head. “One,” he replied, ticking off on his claws, “you might have to testify. Two: it would take too long right now. Three: it was nothing she could stick on me, and I like it that way.”

“Well,” said a voice from the doorway, “I thought you looked familiar.”

Both of them turned to see Officer Catano standing in the door, leaning against the frame with her paws propped on her hips in a, 'what are we waiting for' sort of way. Judy jumped a little; the quiet way cats moved, even ones so large, was something she still hadn't quite gotten used to. Also, despite the vast difference in build and size, something in the cheetah’s manner reminded Judy of Major Friedkin at the academy; cold and very much in charge.

“Officer Hopps, I assume you're ready?”

“Oh! Yes, yes I'm ready. Um, Cal- I mean Office Catano, this is Nick Wilde. Nick Wilde, this is-”

“Officer Catano,” the cheetah interjected, regarding Nick with an inquisitive gaze. “We've met.” She had heard that Judy's associate was a fox, but seeing him in person... well, that was another story. _I guess things really are changing,_ she thought. After the merest pause, she walked over and held out a paw to shake.

Nick took her gaze for skepticism and masked just how neatly he'd been caught, much as he had when Judy had called him out for lying to her about the Jumbo Pop. “Nice to meet you, Officer,” he greeted, cheerfully shaking her much larger paw. “I guess this means you two are heading out.”

She nodded. “We are. I understand you're part of this too?”

“Yeah. Call me a local consultant.”

“Mm-hm. Well, I suggest you wait for your group out in the lobby, now that I'm taking your escort. Stay safe.”

Nick watched the ladies leave and headed out to the lobby as advised, where he took his stand up on the rim of a planter by the main desk. Hooking a paw around the trunk of the small tree within, he strongly resembled a castaway searching the horizon for ships as he looked out for the surveillance crew. The search did little to help him not think about how small and alone he felt now that Judy was gone.

Officer Catano led Judy out to the back of the station, where a large, nondescript white delivery van was parked. Already present were two big cats – a leopard and a lion – dressed in T-shirts and jeans; the typical attire of a pair of truckers. The lion cast a friendly wave and a wink at Catano. She waved back, but shook her head.

“We'll be riding there in the back,” she explained, opening the door there and waving Judy in.

The back of the truck was obscured by a curtain consisting of overlapping strips of plastic, allowing easy passage but no visibility. “Why the curtain?” Judy asked as she slipped inside.

Callie climbed in after her. “So no one outside can see the box,” she replied, taking a seat towards the front end of the cargo section. As Judy took her own seat and buckled in, she eyed the large cardboard box on the floor. It was open, lined with a wooden crate for sturdiness, and holding a few assorted pieces of equipment. The cheetah explained that this was to be their ticket into the apartment building.

“We're assuming that the surveillance teams will notice if anyone is watching the place,” she told Judy, “but since we can't be too careful, the undercover officers up front will be dropping us off in the crate. Anyone not in the know will hopefully think it’s just a refrigerator.”

“We're going in the box?” asked Judy, raising an eyebrow and scrunching her face.

Catano raised one in turn. “Unless you know a better way to get in without anyone noticing two strange mammals who didn't come out again.”

Judy looked at the box again as the lion glance in on them and then closed the doors at the back. It looked like they could both fit, but the trip was sure to be cramped. _Nick would probably make some wisecrack,_ she thought. _'Just like the old burrow back home,' he'd say._ Thinking of the very less-than-funny joke, and about informing Nick that her parents' home was actually _very_ spacious, lightened her mood a bit, but she needed to focus right then. “So, we get in there, you wait in one apartment, and I wait in Doug's?”

This drew a nod from the cheetah.

“ _You ladies comfy back there?”_ asked a voice over an intercom.

Catano pressed a button on the wall. “You know we're buckled in, LeRoi.” She pronounced it as a guttural, ‘Lurouccch’ which made Judy think of a gagging sound. “You closed the door, remember?”

This was answered with a clicking sound and a teasing, “Touchy, touchy. Sounds like someone has a rough time ahead.”

As the exchange ended, Catano pointed a warning claw at Judy. “No comments. Officer LeRoi has problems staying focused on the job.”

Judy raised an eyebrow. “And you?”

Callie's face turned sour, then shifted to resignation. “Chief Bogo isn't too fond of workplace romances.” With an odd hint of sadness, she added, “... and neither am I, for that matter.”

She was silent for a moment, but before any questions could come her way she changed her demeanor and adopted a tone which seemed to say, 'So much for regrets.' “Anyway,” she added, “that lion will flirt with just about any female – a so consider yourself warned.”

The remarks, and the tone in which they were delivered, brought plenty more questions to Judy's mind. However, she could tell Callie didn't want to talk about it any further, so she moved along to going over their plans.

A half-hour later, Nick was still waiting in the lobby. He had donned his trademark sunglasses, less to look cool than to do a better job of shrugging off the dubious looks from passing cops. One bear gave him a double-take before passing on, and Nick recognized him from an incident involving some fireworks. He passed the time by pecking away at his phone, wondering how the lowbrows giving him the stink-eye would react to seeing him in a uniform one day, and trying not to think about how antsy he felt sitting around the police station. He and law enforcement had always been like oil and water. Without Judy around to be the soap, he just felt... grungy. It gave a new – and none too pleasant – meaning to his preferred nickname, 'Slick.'

 _On the bright side, she's not calling me Junior Detective right now,_ he thought. Then again, at least if she were that would mean she was present – and having a friendly face would really have been nice at the moment.

He spotted a timber wolf and a jaguar headed his way, and his attention immediately jumped to the wolf. His eyebrows lifted with recognition.

“Kevin? Is that you?” Kevin was an old friend of Nick's, and fortunately a good deal more sociable than a certain _other_ Kevin who lived over in Tundratown. He was the only wolf Nick knew who didn't howl with or without provocation, which earned him a modicum of greater esteem than Nick had for most of his kind. He and Nick had met by way of a trading card gamers' club some time back when they were in their teens. In fact, they had often met in the very same restaurant where Nick had gone the other day to get takeout for his date with Taelia.

“Nick! So you really are here.” Kevin seemed only slightly less surprised to see Nick. “Fancy seeing you in a place like this.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Nick replied with a glance around, though the truth was that Kevin had always been a bit more straight-laced than he had. Then realization sank in. “Wait, are you guys the surveillance team?”

Kevin grinned. “Yep, that's us. Meet Officer Chad Clawson,” he added, gesturing to the jaguar. “Clawson, meet Nick Wilde.”

The jaguar glanced down at Nick. “Hello,” he greeted in a low voice.

Nick noticed with some confusion that the cat was dressed rather shabbily; more like someone who'd been homeless for a week or so than a police officer. He even smelled like he needed a bath… _badly_. The contrast was all the more striking when one looked at Kevin's clothes. The wolf wore a red T-shirt plus a camouflage jacket and cargo pants; neat, though it didn’t exactly say ‘police officer.’

Deciding not to question the fashion choices of a cat big enough to pin him under paw and use him for a floor rag, Nick turned back to Kevin. “You still into cards?”

Kevin shrugged. “More of a video gamer lately. Ever try Elder Tails? In high-def it feels like you're really there.”

Nick made a mental note to look into that when he got around to setting up some gaming gear for his dog cave. He was about to say as much when Clawson cleared his throat.

“I hate to interrupt this,” the cat noted, “but we're on a schedule.”

“Right, right,” Kevin coughed, waving Nick to follow them. The fox had to walk double-time to keep up with their longer strides, but they made handy blockers as the group passed through the lobby (although he did still have to stop for a passing rhino). Besides that, the presence of an old buddy made the situation considerably less daunting.

Nothing more was said until they reached the van, which looked like an exceptionally run-down minivan with tinted windows, sized for something a bit larger than either of the cops. Based on TV shows he had seen, Nick surmised that the inside would be full of state-of-the art equipment arranged with efficiency that would put Finnick's van to shame.

To his surprise, as Kevin guided him into the sliding door at the side, he found that the interior looked every bit like a normal minivan, save that a seat was missing in the back. “Where are all the gizmos?” he asked.

Kevin just smiled. “You'll find out when we get there. Right now we have to buckle up.”

Nick followed the wolf's lead as Clawson got into the driver's seat and got them started.

“So,” Kevin added, “I assume you know what's going on tonight?”

“Well enough,” Nick replied, ticking off on his paws. “You watch the surveillance feeds, I help you screen anyone passing through, and we relay any heads-up to Ju- I mean, Officers Hopps and Catano.” Nick had caught himself just in time. It was one thing to be familiar with Judy in an informal setting, but he'd have to be more careful trying to get into this new career. Sure, he doubted Kevin would say anything to Chief Bogo, but who knew about Clawson? Then, of course, there was also the risk of slipping up where someone who _would_ point a finger might say something.

Kevin nodded and leaned back. “Yeah, pretty much. We'll let them know if anyone suspicious enters the building. Once we arrive we'll tap in wirelessly to the traffic cams in the area, along with a few we've set up ourselves for the operation.”

Nick knew about the new cameras. Not that he didn't trust the ZPD's work, or that he disrespected the decisions of his potential future superior, but he also knew the value of preparation. That was why he'd casually cased their destination earlier that day and noticed several mammals putting up extra cameras under the guise of routine maintenance. As the van began to roll, he just hoped the sheep wouldn't be so savvy. If they were, the whole trap could be a waste of time... or worse.

That was one thing he had learned from dealing with criminals nastier than himself: there was always an 'or worse.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there you have it. Sorry I took so long, but hopefully it was worth the wait. I also hope everyone enjoyed the lighter parts, because I think the upcoming chapters are going to get a bit more intense. What was all that talk about a new formula? And what about the mammal known as Obearon? Is it Miss Poisson hiding behind a clever facade, or is the mystery mammal playing her against the ZPD? Will the plan to catch the runaway rams go over smoothly, or do the sheep have something in store?  
> Well, I'll give you one spoiler: They are definitely up to something.
> 
> I will confess that in this story I'll be lapsing a bit on my usual dedication to realism. I picked the brains of an actual cop or two, and it turns out most police stakeouts do not involve surveillance gear or vans. Most times it's just a cop sitting in an unmarked car; the vans and cameras are mostly for cop shows because they look cool. For this story, I decided to flex my fondness for subterfuge – but you'll find out more about that later on.
> 
> A couple of more realistic notes are to be found here. One is the name of the flirtatious lion. “LeRoi” is French for “the king,” which the officer in question has clearly let go to his head. Catano’s pronunciation of it, in addition to conveying her view of him, is actually how it would be said in French (or as close as I could render at any rate).
> 
> Musk deer are also real, by the way. Strangely they are not classified as actual deer, and the males have teeth like saber-toothed cats (I promise, I’m not making this up) which, as one reader initially noted, are used for competing with rivals and attracting mates. Don't ask me why they have these teeth to begin with; I'll ask about it when I get upstairs. However, being roughly the same size as medium-sized dogs, they are actually kind of cute to see in a zoo, as I was fortunate enough to do sometime after initially posting this chapter. If one was the size of a sheep and naturally wary of sharp teeth, however, they would probably not look so en-deer-ing (Sorry, I had to).
> 
> Easter Eggs  
> First, a fairly easy one: the literary names drawn on here  
> A nod to All Dogs go to Heaven  
> Kevin's game of choice  
> Chad’s last name (actually put this one in by accident, but it is an Easter Egg)
> 
> And finally, the firecracker incident was something that came up in another fanfic whose author and title I can’t recall. So if anyone recalls Nick telling Judy about a mishap involving a bear officer and some illegal firecrackers, please let me know.
> 
> As always, please feel free to fave, follow, and let me know what you think!


	13. Some Unexpected Twists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working with Nick, the ZPD lays a trap to snare one of the escaped sheep from the Night Howler Conspiracy. But will the plan work, or blow up in their faces?

“ **How hard could it be?”**

 **Juni Cortez,** _**Spy Kids** _

 

(What, were you expecting the thirteenth chapter to _not_ be jinxed?)

 

Scant streetlights cast intermittent patches of yellow luminescence over the former neighborhood of the three fugitive rams. Through the dirty cones of light, a decrepit-looking van crawled along the street like a dying wind-up toy. The driver looked to and fro through luminous green eyes, somehow looking bleary despite the glow as he searched for a place to stop.

“That one,” whispered a voice behind him.

He jerked and glanced back. In the seat behind him, a short mammal pointed to one of the nearby buildings. “Third driveway down. Nobody's in it. Count on it.”

The driver gazed warily at the building, pulled past the driveway, and backed through a decrepit chain-link gate hanging open on a single hinge. The house, wedged between two taller structures as though it were hammered in to keep them from smacking together, certainly did look deserted. There wasn't a window left intact, and broken doors testified to long-ago ransacking. If someone had thrown in creepy music and a few cobwebs, the place would have been all set for a haunted house movie.

With a shrug, the driver pulled into the driveway past a ramshackle gate hanging on a single hinge. He parked, stretched, and yawned, displaying an impressive set of feline fangs. “Alright, you two get to work. I'll keep a lookout here.”

In the back seat, Kevin undid his buckle. “How can you be sure this place is empty?” he asked.

Nick, who had already unbuckled, slipped down to the floor. “Because I know this part of town,” he replied matter-of-factly. “The place has been deserted for years. Even most homeless animals hardly ever bother with it. Besides, anyone in there would be going in and out on foot, so the driveway's fair game.”

Kevin nodded, seeing the logic in Nick's choice. “Well, even if we run into a conflict, that's Clawson's worry. Come on, Junior.” He delivered the last word with a smirk and a wink. “It's time for show and tell.”

The fox groaned. Evidently, word of his nickname had reached even the ears of his old card buddy. _Who's next?_ he wondered. _Chief Buffa… gah. Chief Bogo?_ He really needed to work on the name thing.

He soon forgot about embarrassing monikers when Kevin showed him the back. The driver's seat, accompanying shotgun spot, and the row behind them were the only real seats in the van. The rest were all just tops attached to a kind of roof which, while reminiscent of youngsters' play forts in its scale, was clearly designed and built by pros for just such jobs as this. From the front of the car – the only way one could see in thanks to the tinted windows – it looked just like a bunch of empty seats. Beneath that layer of deception, it was a little den totally invisible to the outside world. Kevin extracted a few boxes and bags from the crawlspace, which he piled on top of the cover. Now it looked as if the back seats were occupied by... well, as far as Nick could figure, it was supposed to look like the contents of a yard sale. Out of the tops poked mostly clothes, a few books, and even one of those statues of a Zoola dancer – which, for some reason, seemed to be holding a large hook in one paw.

“What's with the junk?” he asked.

Kevin grinned. “I think I'll see how long you take to figure that out. C'mon in.”

Inside the crawlspace was a fair-sized monitor linked up to a laptop computer – solid state drive, as Kevin mentioned, to shield against any damage from use in a moving vehicle. The monitor was larger than the laptop's screen, but the appearance was considerably altered by the assortment of small images arranged all over it in a grid.

“Not what I expected,” Nick admitted, looking around at the otherwise blank space. He refrained from asking where all the other monitors and keyboards and whatnot were hidden. He didn’t even see a coffee pot, which he’d always fancied police must keep on hand for long stakeouts.

Kevin grinned, reading his expression and movements anyway. “You must have watched the TV shows with old technology. This little setup – I call it the play fort – has got all we need.” He laid his paw on the laptop’s touch pad. “The screens are set to work in conjunction,” he explained, flicking the cursor from one to the other to demonstrate. “The big one shows all the cameras we've got in the area. Any we click on...” he clicked a mini-view on the grid, “... shows up in better size and clarity over here,” he finished as the laptop screen bore out his explanation. Then he handed Nick a pair of headphones and donned a pair himself. “We've got plainclothes cops around the area. They radio in anything they spot, I – or rather we – check it on the cameras, and issue instructions as needed. You might call us the Command Center for this little mission.”

Nick was definitely starting to see the attraction of law enforcement and its many toys. He had long thumbed his nose at the police, reveling in his ability to stay just outside of the law's reach. Now, as if Judy hadn't been proof enough, it was becoming ever clearer that when Zootopia's Finest got serious, they could really put on a good show. _Come to think of it…_

“So,” he concluded, “the stuff up top makes the van look cluttered, which...” he lowered his voice, “combined with Clawson's getup and smell-”

“I heard that,” called Clawson.

Nick coughed nervously. “So while we look out from back here, he poses as some guy kicked out of his home.” He hated to admit it, but he was impressed. The setup was strikingly simple, but it was ingenious enough to beat anything he and Finnick had ever cooked up.

Kevin nodded. “Now you're learning. And that reminds me...” he took out an iPaw and hooked it up to a dangling cord. “This is our part of that.”

Nick blinked. “Our part?”

“You'll see,” Kevin grinned, “but only if we end up having to use it.”

Abstractly, Nick wondered if this was how other mammals felt when he did one of his 'I-Know-Something-You-Don't-Know' schticks.

 

Inside the apartment building, in an unoccupied flat next door to Doug's, all was quiet. A couple of months' worth of dust covered the floor and untarped furnishings, attesting to long disuse and disregard. The only signs of broken loneliness were some pawprints, and a long, taped-up box which lay on the floor, untouched by time. It sat there unattended – at least until a claw poked up through the tape. With one long, fluid sweep, the claw slid half the length of the box. A quick push from inside stretched the slit the rest of the way and snapped the tape at the ends with a pop. The flaps flipped up, releasing Judy Hopps like a Jackalope-in-the-Box. Officer Catano was right behind her, sitting up like someone prematurely consigned to a coffin and wearing the expression of one who had just found herself as the victim of a joke.

“Nice of them to let us know we’d been dropped off,” she remarked, looking around at the empty apartment.

Judy shook herself. Even with her small size, it had been a little cramped being stuck in the box with Callie. On top of that, though she didn't want to offend the cheetah by saying it, cat fur had never been on her Top Ten list of favorite smells. Still, she tried to put a nice face on things as she pushed her paws against the small of her back and inclined her hips forward. “Well, if they had tried to open the box from the outside, we might have had something else to complain about,” she noted. “Besides, you fell asleep.”

Without commenting on the prospect of being poked with a claw or a box cutter, Catano turned a few twists to loosen her long, lithe spine, then straightened her uniform. “Got to rest where you can in this line of work,” she pointed out, “but thanks for waking me up.”

“No problem,” Judy replied, likewise fixing her clothes as she looked around. “So, I guess you're waiting in here?”

Catano nodded, extracting several items from the box and supplying Judy with hers: a rabbit-sized rappelling harness, night-vision goggles which were rather inelegant due to hasty re-sizing, and a few other assorted pieces of equipment. On the ride over she had explained the inclusion of the harness with a simple piece of advice: sheep, and a lot of other mammals, were atrocious at looking up. All Judy had to do was climb up the wall – preferably behind the door where any marks she made would be least noticed – and station herself at a high vantage point from which to strike. She'd have – and she knew this was a terrible pun – the 'drop' on whoever came to dispose of the evidence.

Judy buckled the harness and allowed Catano to double-check her work. For someone as independent as she was, it was a bit... well, unorthodox having someone tinker around with something so tightly fitted to her form. She figured she'd have to get used to it, but it was some relief to at least be tended by a female officer – and one from a different species at that – for her first time. Catano, for her own part, simply tugged a few straps here and there before nodding her approval and offering some last-minute instructions.

“If you miss with the stun gun and have to get physical, hit the emergency release,” the cheetah advised. “You don't want anything he can grab.”

Judy picked up the rest of the gear, clipped it all in place on her person, and nodded. “Count on it,” she promised, flashing a confident thumbs-up.

Callie raised an index claw. “And don't get cocky,” she added sternly, pointing the claw at Judy. “You're a good officer, so don't blow it.” Then she fished in her pocket and drew out a key which she tossed to Judy; the key to Doug’s former dwelling.

Something in the cheetah's voice pulled Judy up short in a way few ever achieved. It reminded her of when Bogo had thrown down the ultimatum about what would happen if she failed to find Mr. Otterton in time. Maybe there was some of that same gravity in Catano's voice. It also might have been the cheetah's regard for her safety, or – riding on that last point's tail – the simple reminder that she, Judy Hopps, was every bit as capable of dying as anyone else. Ten to one, whoever showed up would be one of the sheep from that clash in the subway. They had tried darn hard to snuff her out the last time, and would no doubt be more than happy to remedy their past failure on round two.

Whatever it was, it weighed heavily on her mind as she slipped next door and went about getting herself into place. Once she was in, however, her tactical mind took over. Her eyes scanned the apartment, mapping out every relevant detail: where the target might go, objects she could use to her advantage, and angles from which she could strike.

She would _not_ mess this up. She had set her personal bar too high to botch an arrest now. The whole ZPD was counting on her to bring in this suspect.

For that matter, so was Ben’s donut supply.

 _Focus, Judy!_ she mentally scolded herself, shaking her head. She went back to planning.

Out in the surveillance van, things had gone quiet. Clawson listened to a portable radio as he pretended, for the benefit of any passers-by, to doze fitfully. Every now and then he would lurch and look around as if waking from a dream. In the back, Kevin assured Nick – who kept slipping out from below seat level to stretch – that the jaguar was wide awake through it all. Besides, Officer Clawson was just the window dressing. The real business was in the back.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though the real business consisted of watching a whole lot of nothing. In the hours they'd been there, Nick had observed several shady-looking exchanges, a few hookups, and a handful of would-be muggings quickly disrupted by officers supposedly just doing their regular patrols. So far, outside of tipping off those officers, the surveillance van seemed to be about as much use as a life raft in the middle of a desert. The most interesting thing to happen was when Nick wondered how often officers had this kind of fly-on-the-wall assistance. The thought of it gave him extra reason to be glad he was changing careers.

Nick was in the process of making his fourth or fifth trip up front, hoping to catch Clawson actually taking a snooze, when a sound sent him diving back into the 'play fort.' Someone was rapping on the window.

“Shh! Shhhh!” hissed Kevin, motioning for Nick to take over the computer while he manned the iPaw. They both listened as Clawson rolled down the window, smacking his lips and groaning as if he had just woken up.

“What?” asked the jaguar, and despite Kevin's assurances Nick suspected that the stranger had finally caught Clawson napping for real.

“What're you doing here?” came the unpleasantly toned reply. The voice had the same grating tone and irritability Nick had often met when visiting non-fox establishments. “You ain't from this neck of the woods.”

Clawson continued to act confused and exhausted, blinking owlishly in response. “Oh, sorry,” he yawned. “Am I in your way? I was just getting some rest, and-”

Kevin pushed a button, and a female voice suddenly sounded above him and Nick. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Nick raised an eyebrow and flicked his ears. Then he realized that there must be a speaker hidden somewhere in the junk above their heads. _Darn good speaker, too,_ he thought. _It sounds just like a real mammal._

The jaguar looked over his shoulder at the non-existent passenger. “Nothing, sweetheart.”

Another button yielded a sound like a baby feline crankily stirring in his sleep.

“You'll have to excuse us,” Clawson added, speaking again to the stranger. In a forlorn tone even Nick could scarcely have seen through or beaten himself, the jaguar explained about losing his job and being evicted with his family. “We've been trying to find a place to stay, and I just had to...” he paused to yawn. “... had to stop and rest for a bit.”

Kevin played a sound effect of the fictional cub beginning to cry, and the mother quickly trying to soothe her infant.

“Oh, now look,” Clawson groaned. By the sudden odd, faintly smothered tone his voice took on, Nick guessed that he had dragged a paw down over his face in a helpless ‘why me’ gesture.

 _Wow, he_ is _good,_ thought Nick, pretty sure that even he would have been fooled if he hadn’t been in on the ruse himself.

The stranger still sounded perturbed, but there was now a note of regret in his voice. “Hey, sorry about that, mac, but you do know this ain't a public parking area, right?”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” the disguised cop replied impatiently. “Look, I just need a little more rest, okay? If there's a fire or anything, I promise I'll move.”

Kevin cranked the kit up to all but uncontrollable wailing, largely drowning out the mother's voice. Not only did the volume increase, but the tempo and pitch changed as well. Whoever had designed the program running all of this really knew their stuff.

The stranger, evidently, didn't want to continue debating in the presence of a crying child. “Okay,” he agreed with a relenting sigh. “I guess that's alright – just this one time.”

“Oh, thank you.” Chad rolled up the window, and then kept an eye on the stranger. When the mammal was far enough away, he signaled Kevin to cut it out. Under the wolf’s manipulation, the crying gradually died off just like a real baby calming down.

Nick had to laugh. It had been a hustle worthy of him. “That was great,” he chuckled.

Kevin grinned. “Thanks. My Illusion level's gonna hit 98 soon.”

The whole thing was so funny that Nick almost missed an incoming report. “009 to CC,” came a female cop's voice. “Approaching on SS.”

“Check the south side of the place,” Kevin commanded.

Nick's eyes were already scanning that set of mini-screens. Spotting motion, he clicked and surveyed the view that popped up on the main screen.

“Looks like one of our suspects, alright,” Kevin concluded.

Nick nodded. Faces of mammals who tried to kill him had a habit of sticking in his mind. “Yep. I'd know him anywhere.” He keyed the radio. “Carrots, you and Spots better get ready. One of our sheep buddies is on his way; the one you almost ran down with the train car, I think. He’s got a package, and I don't think it's pizza.”

Kevin winced and shook his head. _“Spots?”_ he mouthed, trying not to laugh.

His reaction was justified as Officer Catano's voice testily answered, “The name's _Catano_ , fox. _Officer_ Catano.”

 _Well I'll be,_ thought Nick as Kevin shook with amusement at his bravado. _They found another Judy and she's not even a bunny._

“Thanks, Nick,” Judy replied. Then came the other shoe. “And you know I'm going to have to clobber you for the 'Spots' thing on principle, right?”

Catano said nothing at the moment, but half-hoped Judy was serious. She never could put up with being called 'Spots.’ Putting that aside, however, she continued her surveillance of Doug’s room through a camera planted right by Judy’s current position. Though she admired the bunny’s pluck and hoped it would pay off unaided, she had never lost a partner in her entire career with the department. She didn’t plan to start that night.

It was an interminable wait for those both inside and outside, hardly daring to move as they anticipated Jesse's arrival.They supposed he was taking his time, avoiding any possible run-ins with his former neighbors or maybe suspicious that there would actually be a trap waiting for him. The truth was much less interesting, though the implications were dire. Despite having been commanded to go straight to Doug's apartment, do his job, and get the heck out of there, Jesse first went to his own former dwelling to retrieve some of his posters and other odds and ends. He had three reasons. One: he didn't like Obearon much and, being confident that he could smuggle his things back into the hideout, was glad enough to thumb his nose at the Mystery Boss' orders. Two: Life in the hideout was boring as heck.

The third reason was the one with dire implications. Depending on the potency of the package he was to leave at Doug's, he might not have another chance to collect his possessions... _ever._

At the academy, Judy had learned that there was a drawback to being a rabbit where field work was concerned. Nature had given her kind a heightened flight response, meaning their adrenaline glands could kick into high gear at the drop of a hat and burn through said substance in a very short time. A system like that had served her well where running was involved – like chasing down Weaselton or being chased by Mr. Manchas. For waiting like a spider in a web, though... well, if nature had meant for her to do that, it would have given her spinnerets.

Never one to settle for the paw that fate had dealt her, she had learned to cheat her body's systems – at least in practice. The trick she had taught herself was to focus her mind on a given stimulus and screen out all other possible triggers. In this case, she was waiting for the door below her to open and the sheep in question to walk in.

In concept and even in training, it was simple enough. _In situ_ , she was hard-put to keep up that kind of focus and force herself to be calm when every hair on her fluffy little body was screaming, _'Let it begin! Let it begin!'_ In a nutshell, it was exhausting. She was breathing as slowly and quietly as she could, holding her mouth open wide enough so the air wouldn’t whistle through her teeth or lips. The only sound she couldn’t muffle was the beating of her heart. It had been soft before, like a watch wrapped in cotton, but at the announcement that their sheep was on the way, it had strengthened in pace and intensity.

_Thump-thump._

_Thump-thump._

_THUMP-thump._

_THUMP-THUMP!_

_THUMP-THUMP-THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP!_

Part of her was convinced that the suspect would hear it all the way out in the hall.

Fortunately, he didn’t. She almost gasped when the door opened. With a quick movement that belied his clumsy build, Jesse slipped in and shut the door behind him.

Judy could barely contain herself as the ram flicked on the lights. Fortunately the ZPD had expected this, and picked goggles with an auto-response to sudden light changes. She waited while the suddenly darkened image cleared, letting her eyes adjust. This was her moment! Quietly, she slipped her stun gun out of the holster and took aim, steadying it with her left paw for insurance. She had already clicked off the safety; ill-advised, maybe, but this way no sound would betray her. Slowly, she raised the weapon and made ready to fire.

Unfortunately, she had neglected to allow for the window. Glancing around for any signs of traps or an ambush, he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass and jumped forward just as she pulled the trigger.

The _thunk_ of her dart lodging in the floor was almost instantly followed by a much louder report as the sheep rolled upward and fired – with an actual gun.

BLAM!

The first shot missed, but Judy wasn’t about to give him time to recover. Flipping the release on her harness, she swung by the straps and dodged two more bullets, landing at the top of a bookshelf and knocking it away from the wall. Jesse yelled and scrambled out of the way, dropping the gun as the shelf slammed home on top of it and the package, which he had dropped in his roll seconds before. Judy rode the top of the shelf halfway down, then leaped, bounced off the far wall, and landed in a crouch on three paws with one forepaw drawn back.

“Let’s see how tough you are without a weapon,” she taunted.

“Let’s see how tough _you_ are without a train!” he yelled in reply, charging her horns-first. Judy sprang straight up, came down on his lowered head, and jumped again, using the recoil from her second jump to send Jesse’s face into the floor.

At first it seemed very one-sided. Judy struck blow after blow, shooting in quickly to flatten the ram before rebounding and leaving only air for him to hit in turn. Right hook! Tornado kick! Strike! Strike! Strike! Jesse was strong and built to withstand blows which would put her in a body cast, but she had speed and training.

There was, however, one very dangerous flaw in her strategy. Her blows were strong enough to take down a rhino, but rhinos didn’t give ground; they took the full force of any blow right into their massive bodies. With each blow she struck, Jesse rolled, taking the brunt of it on his horns or letting his wool deaden the worst of the impact. Judy had virtually no experience against Jesse’s style, but Jesse was a veteran of countless bar fights with more different species than he could remember. He had experience. She was wearing him down bit by bit, but he only needed one good shot… and he got it.

Tired of waiting for him to go down, Judy zipped towards a wall and rebounded. It didn’t have the same give as the ropes around the ring at the academy, but she was sure she could do a good enough Rhino Rammer (her pet name for the move she had invented). Flying toward him like a missile, she brought her feet around, planning to slip them under his horns this time and get him on the chin.

He rolled back, just inches from impact, and hurled one hardened fist straight into the middle of her body. Pain knifed through Judy from spine to stomach, and her elegant leap turned into a tumble, knocked upward by the force of Jesse’s blow. Her landing would have been inelegant for a rag doll.

Jesse rose to his feet, cracking his knuckles as he approached her. He’d endured endless ridicule when it got around that he had been beaten by a bunny and a fox. Now, watching Judy struggle to rise, he had to give her some credit for just being able to move her legs. He’d put other sheep in wheelchairs before with punches like that one.

“So, this is the cop that saved the city, huh?” he gloated, savoring the moment.

Still wincing, Judy rose to her feet and doubled up her paws. Jesse chuckled, let her make a stumbling charge, and sent her flying with a sweep of his horns.

“I guess you’re _not_ so tough without-”

He barely had time to register the blur in his peripheral vision before Catano struck, kicking him exactly where Judy had been trying for.

Officer Catano had been her high school girls’ soccer team’s MVP for three years running, and she’d lost none of her skill in the near decade since. The force of the kick flung the ram halfway across the apartment, to be followed an instant later by the feline herself. She landed on top of him, with a single forepaw driving his head against the floor. Keratin cracked as his horns slammed into the boards, and for several seconds he was utterly dazed.

“Hopps, are you alright?!” barked Catano.

Judy took a few wheezing breaths, patting her side to check out her ribs. “Nothing's broken,” she replied, wincing. She’d have bruises to show for this fight in places she didn’t like to show. “I'll be fine.”

Catano had some doubts on that, but she was satisfied that a few moments would not kill her partner. “Stay down. I'll take care of this punk and be right with you.” Rising to her knees, she transferred her grip to the back of Jesse’s neck and held him at arm's length with a disdainful look. She rose completely and began to walk along the wall, knocking in seemingly random places with her free paw as she carried her stunned captive. Jesse groaned as half of one horn fell away, clattering to the floor.

“You know,” Catano told him with the air of a teacher rebuking a schoolyard thug-in-training, “slamming a female around is about the most _pathetic_ thing a male can do – especially with a female smaller than himself. No offense, Hopps. So if you think that's somehow _macho_ , then I think you need a little education. Let me introduce you to a real _stud.”_

Whirling around faster than Judy could track, Catano slammed the sheep's face into the wall. His horns punched right through the sheet rock like it was paper, taking off the tip of the other horn in the process.

His face met with something a teensy bit more solid. Even Judy winced. For all the mishaps she'd run into as a kit on the farm, she had never smacked her face into a two-by-four at _that_ kind of speed.

The cheetah let her prize drop, planting one foot in the center of his back. Jesse, apparently, had either learned his lesson or was just in too much pain to resist. Catano keyed her radio. “Got him.”

Several congratulatory remarks came through, along with a few inquiries about calling it a night.

“We might still need Wolfard,” Catano replied. “The rest of you can go – and that includes the fox. Tell him he’ll be hearing from ‘Spots’ later.”

In spite of the pain she was in, Judy half-winced and half-laughed. On the off-chance she ever wanted to annoy Callie, now she knew how to do it. She was beginning to get her breath back as Catano cuffed the sheep, and something began to turn over in her brain. She wasn't sure if it was just the uncharacteristic sass from her normally business-like colleague, or perhaps her own head had taken a harder hit than she thought. Either way, the next words out of her mouth were out of place even by her offbeat standards.

“That lecture sounded a lot like Major Friedkin,” the bunny noted, recalling her tough-as-nails polar bear instructor.

“From the academy?” asked Callie, shrugging. If the remark surprised her, she gave no sign. “Makes sense. She adopted me when I was ten.”

“Oh.” Judy knew some mammals adopted outside their species, but as far as she knew she'd never actually met someone from such a family. For that matter, she had to wonder what it would be like for a savannah mammal to be raised by a polar bear – especially the major. “Was she a-”

“Friend of my parents?” Callie's reply came just a little too quickly, and Judy could see fur starting to stick out from the cheetah's body. Then Callie calmed down. “She was... but I'd rather not talk about it. Besides, we have something more important to worry about.”

Though she doubted it was what Callie meant, Judy suddenly remembered something else. “Um, Catano, about that last-minute save... you don't suppose-?”

“Save it,” the cheetah replied, lifting the toppled book case and looking underneath. With a scowl, she finished putting the shelf back in place and crouched over Jesse’s package. “I hate being right,” she muttered, putting her ears back.

As if the pain from Jesse’s punch wasn’t bad enough, now Judy had a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Back in the van, Nick and Kevin slapped paw pads. “And that's a wrap for the night,” Kevin announced as he closed down the equipment. “Go ahead and buckle up. I'll pack up back here and be right with you.”

Sure enough, it couldn't have been more than a minute before the wolf emerged, put 'Clawson's belongings' away, and joined Nick. “Let's go, Chad,” he announced.

“Yeah,” Nick agreed, feeling the urge to celebrate the victory with a good ribbing. “That shower's not getting any hotter.”

Clawson gave him a baleful look in the mirror. “Funny, fox,” he replied. As if by afterthought, he added, “My wife hates it when I have to stink up for these things.”

The canids in the back exchanged playful grins, but grew more serious by the time they got back to the station. Both of them, though initially jazzed and energized by the victory, were feeling the effects of the late hour. It was pushing three in the morning.

“It was good to have you along,” Kevin said later as they parted ways, extending his fist for a bump.

Nick smiled and returned the gesture. “Yeah, it was pretty fun. Gotta admit, I've never seen this side of the law before.”

Kevin shrugged. “Hope you get to see more of it. In fact, let me see your phone a sec. I'll give you my number.” Receiving the device and tapping in his digits, he added, “If this case takes a technical turn, it might pay to have an inside line with the computer department. Mind giving this to Judy too?”

“Will do,” Nick promised. Then, as Kevin turned to leave, he laughed a little and added in a slightly louder voice, “Gotta admit, I figured the first 'give her my number' request I'd get would be from a buck.”

Kevin chuckled a little at the joke. “Ee-yeah, somehow I think she'd prefer a guy closer to her own size.”

Nick wiggled his eyebrows. “Well, maybe her taste runs more toward wolf.”

At that, Kevin blanched just a little. “Uh, Nick, don't you think we should keep this profess...”

It was too late. By the time he'd turned around, Nick Wilde was nowhere in sight.

Kevin sighed, put a paw to his face, and ran it down his muzzle in wearied exasperation. “One of these days, I'm going to nail his paws to the ground,” he muttered, walking away and shaking his head.

Back in Ramses' apartment, the mood was not so jovial. Catano had searched Jesse and found him in possession of both a phone and a 'wire,' or listening device. While she disabled the wire and checked Judy for any serious damage, Wolfard was examining the contents of Jesse's package.

“Lucky for you two our little friend here never got to arm this,” he noted to his fellow officers with the gravest of moods. Studying some cylinders, he added, “Lucky for him, too. If these canisters had gone off by accident, it would have blown this whole apartment right out of the building. The chain reaction could have brought half the place down, too.”

Judy gasped and threw a look at Jesse, who said nothing. She had known the ram was brutal, but he could have killed dozens of his own neighbors!

Catano just nodded, guessing Judy's thoughts. “Whoever's running this now, they're serious,” she announced. “Deadly serious.”

Her words were borne out a moment later when the phone she had taken from Jesse rang. Covering the ram's mouth, she motioned for silence and accepted the call.

“ _Good evening, officers,”_ came a digitally corrupted voice which made them think of their chief speaking through a fan.

The similarity was so strong that Judy half-whispered, “Chief Bogo?”

The phone must have had a pretty good microphone, for this was met with a derisive bark of a laugh. _“Ha! No need for insults.”_

Both of the larger officers glanced unpleasantly at Judy for making herself audible, but Catano waved for her to do the talking since her voice had already been heard. The less this boss knew about whom he was dealing with, the better.

The mastermind on the other end, however, wasn't finished. _“I must say, you put on quite a show, and I do regret that I could not see as well as hear it. Officer Hopps, is it?”_

Judy frowned and folded her arms. “Good guess. And you are?”

The stranger chuckled in reply. _“Oh, I’m not foolish enough to tell you that. You may call me Obearon.”_

Judy would have liked to call him a lot of things, but she held her tongue.

“ _I must congratulate you on the capture of my employee. He doesn't go down easily; I know that much. It was a game as old as time, but you played it commendably; a most impressive performance, certainly. All the same, I believe this makes it my turn. You in the ZPD have many who look to you for security, confidence, and even guidance. As it happens, so do I. So here are the rules of_ my _game: for every blow you strike to those who are looking to me, I will strike at those who are looking to you.”_

This time, Judy couldn't hold back. “You leave the people of Zootopia out of this!” she yelled, grabbing the phone and putting it right up to her face.

Obearon laughed, carrying no hint of joy but plenty of amusement – and a little insanity. “Don't bother trying to track this call, either. Both the phone you have and the one I am using are new and disposable.” The next laugh sounded like Obearon could actually see the enraged look on the rabbit's face. “Welcome to the game, Judith Hopps. Play well.”

The call ended. Judy, her mouth firmly shut, slapped the phone back into Catano's paw, and pulled out her own.

“What are you doing?” asked Wolfard.

“Letting Nick know what we're up agai-hey!” she yelped in protest as Catano snatched her phone from her paws.

The cheetah's face was grim. “Nothing personal, Judy, but we're not telling anyone about this until we run it by Bogo.”

“But-!”

“She's right,” added Wolfard. “Something like this could throw the whole city right back where it was before you nabbed Bellwether. Until we have some idea where the hit might come, it won't do any good for the word to get around.”

Judy's paws clenched in frustration. “Fine,” she snapped, holding out her paw for her phone.

Catano returned it, and for a moment some rays of genuine penitence showed through the cloudy haze of severity. “I'm sorry, Hopps,” she said. “If you trust Wilde to keep quiet then so do I, but this is larger than all of us put together. So until Bogo says otherwise, we keep quiet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yikes. Now what?! Looks like Obearon's not pulling any punches. What's the ZPD going to do now that they know they're not just mopping up remnants of Bellwether's plot? Well, unfortunately the only way to answer those questions – and one other I'm not mentioning just now – is to keep reading.
> 
> There are also – I suspect – some people wondering about the gun thing. I actually spent a long time debating the kind of weapons in Zootopia, but to make it simple I figured guns made sense – and besides, Batman: The Animated Series was loaded with firearms and had a great gritty suspense vibe much like what I'm after, so it made little sense to break formula.
> 
> I’ve noticed that a lot of art and fan fiction has Judy being very showy and not at all private about her body (I’ve had to be very particular about which search engines I use for that sort of reason), but based on how she acted at Mystic Springs I thought it appropriate to have her be more modest and value her personal space. That is why I noted her being glad that it was Catano – a fellow female – checking her harness. I will add that finding Judy depicted as mentioned above is one of the surest things to put me off reading a comic or fanfic, and that as low-smut or smut-free search engines go I recommend info.com very highly.
> 
> Easter Eggs  
> Moana  
> Skyrim  
> Pokemon: Mewtwo's Return  
> Bolt  
> Classic literature  
> Balto  
> Batman: The Animated Series (no, it's not the gun thing)
> 
> And rather than put the Easter Egg answers all at the end of the fic, I'm going to post some of them (for past chapters) now.
> 
> Chapter Four: Bambi (the rabbit and fawn trying to ice skate), Beauty and the Beast (less obvious; the snow leopard and the bison having a snowball fight), Lady and the Tramp/ Lady and the Tramp II (son of mismatched parents teasing his sisters). The Spectacular Spider-Man reference was in the lemming (dressed in red and blue) riding the back of an otter clad in red and green, reminiscent of a scene where Spider-Man more tauntingly "surfed" on Vulture's back in midflight. The comic strip was probably the easiest, with a duo of friends - one being a tiger - building a freakish snowman. This is, of course, a nod to the many bizarre snow sculptures of Bill Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes, particularly of the "Deranged Mutant Killer Monster Snow Goons" story arc. I realize most of the other Easter Eggs were not so obvious in writing, this being one of my earlier Easter Egg chapters. I should probably revise it later to give later readers a better shot.  
> Chapter Six: Saint Ninian's is a nod to the Redwall books by Bryan Jacques. There is also a Christopher Lloyd reference, with Emitt Otterton having the same first name as and using the catchphrase of Doc Brown (played by said actor in the Back to the Future trilogy and other related works) and having a baseball bat in his room (a nod to Al, Lloyd's angelic character in Angels in the Outfield and its sequels). Personally I would love to see him play a part in Zootopia 2 if he's still in shape for it. The plot twist Judy recalls - targeting stockholders to raise one's own share values - is a nod to "The End of the World," the second episode of the Doctor Who reboot (i.e. the current series). I'm not as much of a fan of the reboot as I used to be, but End of the World was an exciting episode and the plot twist was fitting. Last but not least, the reference to a two-mammal team of feline mechanics working in a desert region (the ones who refurbished Nick's car) was a nod to the old action cartoon Swat Kats. If you look at this chapter, there's a nod to them in there too.


	14. Back in Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judy discovers that being a cop isn't all action and intrigue when she remembers a little agreement the hard way... and Bogo hands her an unusual assignment.

**This chapter proofread by winerp and Hawktooth. Thanks, guys!**

 

“ **Nature, like us, is sometimes caught without her diadem.”**

**Emily Dickinson**

 

Judy felt a little stiff the next morning as she headed for the precinct. She did her best to convince herself that this was only because she hadn't slept well, and _maybe_ a bruise or two had developed from Jesse's punch. She was only twenty-four, for crying out loud. Hard knocks or no, she was too _young_ to have a bad back.

_I just didn't get enough sleep,_ she told herself. _Late night, gunshots, bad back, threatening phone call, guilt over-_

“Oh, _no_ ,” she groaned, having not yet reached the fountain out in front of the police station. “The bet!”

In all the excitement, she had completely forgotten about her deal with Chief Bogo. Now, with her heart sinking, she wondered how she was going to break the news to Ben. Somehow, 'Remember how you said you'd been meaning to lose weight and just never got to it?' didn't sound like the best way to go about it.

She coughed, preparing herself like she had for her graduation speech – except that there was no pride in her chest this time; just cramping in her stomach. “Hey, Ben,” she tried, making an unsuccessful effort to force her ears up. “I, uh – I have something to-”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

The despairing cry rolled out through the front of the building and across the open space in front. Mammals several yards behind Judy turned and stared in confusion while she winced and sucked in a breath. She knew two things for sure.

One: Someone had told him already.

Two: This was the start of a really, really bad day.

 

At first, Judy couldn't even see Ben when she entered the lobby. The front desk was surrounded by officers, trying in vain to offer a modicum of comfort. The cheetah's voice, however – begging and pleading for someone to tell him that Judy _hadn't_ lost the bet – was loud and clear despite cracking at times. Judy barely had the heart just to walk up to the crowd, but her feet carried her there of their own accord. As she tapped on Officer Fangmeyer's leg, it almost seemed as if her paw were being drawn by a string like some marionette.

The tigress paused in the middle of offering to treat Ben to lunch – a proposition few could afford or stomach – and looked down. “Oh, Hopps,” she greeted. It was hard to read her expression, but Judy got the feeling Fangmeyer blamed her for the whole fiasco.

“J...Judy?” came a weak and weepy voice.

Fangmeyer stepped away to the right, and Officer McHorn moved left, giving Judy a clear view of her friend. He looked even worse than he sounded, like a shipwrecked sailor who had just screamed himself into exhaustion only to watch as a passing ship continued deafly on its way.

“Ben...” said Judy softly, her ears hanging down her back. “I'm... I'm sorry. I tried to take him alone, but I guess... I guess I just wasn't up to it.”

For a long moment, there seemed to be no telling what Ben might do. Just a second later, whatever reaction he had was rendered moot as a baritone voice broke in like a battering ram.

“Alright, what's all this?”

All eyes turned to the imposing figure of Chief Bogo. Even with his arms hanging impassively at his sides, one hoof clutching several folders, he looked forbidding and unapproachable.

“Chief...” someone whispered. It might have been Clawhauser. For all Judy knew, it might have been her own voice. Her mind and body suddenly seemed so far apart that she couldn’t tell if she had spoken.

Perhaps it had been her, for Bogo's attention flicked down to her. “Officer Hopps. Glad to see you in one piece. I understand you got hit pretty hard last night.”

Judy's shoulders slumped. She had tried to talk Catano into glossing over the fact that it hadn't been a solo takedown after all, but the cheetah had pointed out that she didn't lie to her superiors. She’d also explained that chances were ten to one Jesse would blab anyway just from knowing Judy wanted it kept quiet, and letting the truth be known was important for Judy's well-being. She hadn't clarified that last part, but she _had_ apparently reported everything just as it happened.

Ben was stunned. He had known Judy needed backup to bring Jesse in, but someone actually _clobbering_ her seemed unthinkable. “Judy?” he asked numbly.

No one present thought Ben was capable of moving as fast as he did then, but the cheetah fairly pounced on Judy and picked her up at arm’s length, staring her frantically in the face.

“Are you okay?! Did they hurt you?! How many were there? How big were-?!”

“Clawhauser!” snapped Bogo, pointing a hoof at the floor. “She already needs _one_ spine adjustment, and as far as I know that's all she needs. Now put Officer Hopps down and act like a professional before you add to the problem!”

Clawhauser reluctantly obeyed, and Judy straightened her uniform. Standing as straight and tall as she could, she looked up at the chief. “With all due respect, sir, I think Ben's just a little antsy. Maybe if you eased the do-”

“No.” Bogo's voice, as usual, left about as much room for debate as a boot coming down on an ant mound; one made by the really, really _small_ kind of ant. He looked up at Clawhauser as he delivered the next bit of news. “A deal is a deal. Besides, I don't have time to renegotiate things. Right now I should be in the briefing room – _along with all these other officers,” –_ he added pointedly, casting his eyes over the officers around the counter. His gaze swept them from their spots like a broom, sending the whole crew off to the bullpen. Judy sighed, looked apologetically at Ben, and turned to follow the rest.

“Except for you, Hopps.”

Judy's ears popped up and swiveled backwards as she froze in mid-step. “What?” she asked, turning the rest of herself around.

“As I understand it, you took a pretty hard blow to the back last night. Department policy says you need to have that taken care of.” Leafing through his docket, he added, “Besides, you seem to have forgotten that today is Saturday, which you have off this week.”

“What? But I... the case...” Judy's surprise turned to annoyance as she remembered that Chief Bogo was right. “Chief, I appreciate that, but I'd _really_ like to just get on with the investigation.”

“No.” Chief Bogo found the paper he was looking for, extracted it, and handed it to Judy. “I had a feeling you might show up, so I came prepared. Here's the address of a chiropractic office on Baobab Street. I already told them to expect you.”

Judy wanted to protest, but Bogo's stern expression faltered for a moment, giving way to a look of something like worry. Her objection fizzled out like a campfire in a rainstorm. She knew Bogo was right. ZPD policy required that serious injuries be examined and treated as needed promptly, and a blow to the spine did qualify. The confusion of the night before had only delayed the necessity – and besides, the pain in her back wasn't going away on its own.

“Alright, I'll go,” she relented. Then, determined not to back down completely, she added, “But nothing in the manual says I can't go over a case off the clock.”

The usual just-bit-into-a-lemon look came back to Bogo's face. “Fine. Just remember, no sensitive information gets discussed with non-officers.” Seeming to guess she wondered why he would bring that up, he added, “The fox seems to have overlooked your schedule too. He's waiting outside in his car.”

Judy's temper flared. “Nick would make a _great_ officer if you'd give him the chance.”

Bogo turned away to go about his business, but his voice was as clear as if he'd been speaking straight into Judy's face. “Maybe he will, Hopps, but he's not an officer yet. He'll need to earn that chance just like you did.”

She glared daggers at his back as long as her own allowed it. “He will,” she promised.

It was hard to look stone-faced and defiant as one walked towards the door with a back injury, but somehow Judy managed it anyway. The only thing that stopped her was Ben's voice. “Hey, Judy?”

She turned, her ears dropping. To her surprise, however, Clawhauser was smiling. It was only a tiny smile, but it was unmistakably there. That surprise kept Judy silent until the cheetah spoke again. “Thanks.”

Somehow, the gratitude only made her feel worse. “Thanks for what?” she asked, helplessly spreading her paws. “I let you down.”

Ben almost acknowledged that she had, but held it back. “You did your best,” he admitted. “Besides, I'd feel a lot worse if you came back in a wheelchair. Just get back in shape and solve the case, okay?”

In the time she had known him, Judy had come to take Clawhauser for a nice guy without much strength – in heart or body – to handle tough situations. This new side of him was surprising, but heartening. “You bet,” she smiled, flashing him a thumbs-up. “And for what it's worth, you'll be a bigger mammal at the end of this.”

He kept up his smile until her back was turned, then let his eyes and paws stray to his stomach. “Only in spirit, though,” he added forlornly.

Judy tried to take some comfort in Nick’s demeanor as she approached his car, but that effort, too, seemed destined to backfire. The fox's trademark expression – calm, confident, and slightly perky when Judy was around – dropped a bit when he saw her sour face.

“Wow,” he remarked. “Look, if this is about not calling after the case last night-”

She groaned, raising a paw. “It's not. Just a rough morning.”

“Gotcha.” Nick refrained from asking further questions on the matter, which Judy appreciated. Secretly, he just guessed that she would fill him in anyway – which, naturally, she ended up doing. She kept quiet about the gun, which she wasn’t quite ready to talk about just yet, and the phone call, which of course she wasn’t _allowed_ to discuss. All the rest, however, came out of her mouth on the way to the clinic.

“Poor Ben,” Nick remarked at the end, shaking his head. He tapped one index finger on the steering wheel, thinking over the situation. “I wonder if we could…”

“Not if it’s going to hurt your chances of getting into the ZPD,” she headed him off.

He drew his lips inward, letting his ears fall back. “Yeah, it probably would,” he admitted reluctantly.

There was little more to be said, especially since they were at that moment arriving at the establishment in question. It was part of a quiet little strip mall right about where Baobab entered the Rainforest District, built in a U shape around a parking area. The building had an overhang shading a sidewalk which ran along the front, with regularly spaced pillars holding up the overhang. The pillars resembled tree trunks coiled about with ivy and serpentine forms, though the style of the carvings was rather boxy and angular and the patterns so alike that the pillars must have been cast. The front part of the facade, meanwhile, had a geometric backdrop of gray stone and wooden signs advertising the businesses present. The office they were after sat between a garden store and a thrift shop, and advised on the door that it was run by doctors Clawmeron and Stompson. Underneath that was a note in parentheses: 'Don't let the names fool you. We'll treat you right.'

“I hope their practice is better than their jokes,” Judy observed.

“Well, I guess there's no sense putting it off,” Nick noted, getting the door.

As Judy stepped inside, she was met with the sound of two mammals arguing – one doing an admirable job of remaining calm, considering the other's vehemence.

“I pay good money for these appointments, and you're putting me on _hold?!”_

“Ma'am, please, I'm not putting you on hold. Dr. Stompson is just caught in traffic, and he'll be here as soon as he can. And, much as I hate to make a fuss, we _have_ been over the _food_ policy before.”

As the pint-sized pair entered, they saw the debaters: a blue-clad serval looking patiently up at a female hippo. The hippo's face was hidden by the angle at which she stood, but the girl calf at her side with a large lollipop stick protruding from her mouth gave Judy a sense of deja vu.

“You're here, aren't you?” the mother hippo demanded. “Look, I have a schedule, and-”

“Miss O'Glommel, I simply can't handle a spine your size,” the serval iterated, having clearly brought this point up more than once. Catching a glimpse of the two mammals standing just inside the door, he added, “Besides, I have a priority patient to tend to who _is_ in my size range. Dr. Stompson will be more than welcome – I mean, happy – to take care of you as soon as he gets here. Right this way, ma'am.” So saying, he leaned to one side to signal Judy in.

“Oh, sure,” the mother hippo ranted. “I'm here when the door opens, and you can't keep my appointment, but some prior...” she trailed off when she caught sight of Judy, who tried not to make eye contact.

Nick, on the other hand, could not resist taking a snapshot of the look on Mama Hippo's face... right before her daughter dropped the lollipop.

“Have a nice day,” he called cheerfully, throwing off a salute as he followed his friend.

 

As soon as they were down the hall and into a small room on the right, the serval let out a breath and sagged as if he had partially deflated. “Much as I hate bad PR,” he admitted, “I appreciate your showing up when you did.”

Nick greeted this with a smug grin. “Eh, it’s good for her.”

“You know that hippo?” asked Judy just before she remembered the inevitable reply.

“I know everyone.” Then, leaning in for a mock-conspiratorial whisper, he added, “And if you think Jumbeaux is a jerk to foxes, you should meet _that_ lady sometime.” He yanked on the back of his shirt collar, bugged his eyes, and stuck his tongue out to one side, miming his opinion of the hippo quite expressively.

The chiropractor cleared his throat to hide a laugh. “Yes, well, I think we have more important things to take care of than gossiping about a patient, whatever her attitude. Officer Hopps, I presume? I heard from the ZPD that you were coming. Doctor Clawmeron, at your disposal – but just call me Kirk, please.”

“Alright,” she replied, shaking paws with him, “And you can call me Judy.”

“Good. Just let me set up the table, and we’ll get down to business.”

Judy had been so preoccupied with the conversation that she hadn’t even noticed the room in which they now stood. The walls were painted spring green and hung with a few framed certificates and numerous diagrams of backbones and nervous systems. Against the long far wall, next to a large cabinet, a metal rack supported a hanging replica of a backbone which looked like something from a science classroom. Judy wasn't quite sure what kind of spine it was supposed to be, but it was of median size and lacked the extra vertebrae suggestive of a feline, which narrowed it down just a bit.

At one end of the room, there were a pair of desks – one serval-sized, the other elephant-sized (evidently used by Dr. Stompson) – and each equipped with all the office basics: computers, family photos, and so on. On the wall above the desks hung a large bulletin board covered with photos of the two chiropractors – sometimes alone, other times together – with various patients. Nick noticed a certain red wolf among the familiar faces, and both he and Judy recognized the Otterton family as well as Officer Catano and one or two other cops.

By the time they returned their attention to Kirk, he had gone to a collection of tables of various sizes nested underneath one another. He extracted the smallest one, which on closer inspection looked much like the padded sort a massage parlor might use. “Judy, if you would? Just lie down on your stomach, and we can get started.”

“Alright,” she sighed, climbing up on the table as directed. “Can you make it fast? I have a case to get back to.”

He chuckled as he began gently poking up and down her back. “I won't dawdle, but I don't rush these adjustments – especially not on police off- ooh.” Though he was out of Judy's line of sight, the cringe in his voice was audible. “I think that explains your visit. You take a hit?”

Judy winced as he hit a bruise. “Yeah,” she groaned. “Can you not poke me there?”

“Sorry. That's right where the biggest need is, but I'll be as gentle as I can. Anyway, I understand your impatience. Most officers are like this on their first adjustment.” He checked the rest of her back one more time. “You're in pretty good shape other than that one hit. Just a few minor adjustments. Take a deep breath, please.”

Judy inhaled, and he placed his paws on her back crossed over each other as if he were going to do CPR.

“And let it out slowly.”

She breathed out, and he pushed down. She felt as well as heard a couple of pops in her upper back, though surprisingly they didn't hurt.

“How long is this going to take?” she asked.

“That depends on whether you want a subluxation and vertebral fusion,” he replied.

“Subla-what?” asked Nick from the doorway.

“A subluxation is a misalignment of the spine,” Kirk explained in a tone which hung on the fine line between patient and curt. “If it's ignored too long, it can lead to fusion, which...” The serval paused and put a paw to his chin, thinking for a moment. “In layman's terms, let's call it back decay. Given enough time, the bones can break down and run together, resulting in permanent fusion.”

Both the fox and the rabbit winced. Judy wasn't sure about Nick, but in her own mind's eye she had a mental image of herself permanently hunched over like her grandfather. “In that case, take your time.”

“Thank you,” Kirk replied, going back to work. He repeated what he had done a few more times, apologizing when he had to do so over Judy's bruises. Then he had her lay on her side so he could push her shoulders one way and her hips another just a bit, first on one side and then the other. To finish, he had her lay face-up on one of his paws while he pushed down on her stomach with the other.

“Aaand, one more deep breath... let it out...” he pushed down, and a few more pops came out. “There, that should do it. How do you feel?”

She gingerly sat up, leaned forward, and ran her paws along her lower back. “Wow, that _does_ feel better,” she admitted. The bruises were still there, but at least she felt like she could _move_ again.

Kirk smiled cheerfully. “Glad to be of service. Well, I'm sure you have work to get back to, so I'm guessing you won't stick around for the complimentary acupuncture?” He raised an index finger with the claw protruding, then chuckled at the look on Judy's face. “Just a joke,” he assured her. “But please, stop in anytime.”

Out front, Judy took care of the deductible for her appointment. Midway through, Dr. Stompson’s arrival rescued her from the hippo's irritated gaze.

“Happy adjusting, Dwayne,” called Kirk with a cheerful wave.

The elephant simply frowned. “Yeah, let me know if Francine stops in,” he muttered.

As the pachyderms disappeared, Judy threw a questioning look to Kirk at the mention of her colleague. He, in turn, merely shrugged carelessly. “You probably know about as much as I do about it. By the way, it would be best if we scheduled you for a follow-up appointment in three weeks or so. That adjustment will do for the present, but it's better to be thorough.”

As they took care of that detail, Judy could only hope that by the time the follow-up arrived the case would be finished.

Judy’s mood was rather spoiled on the way back when a text came in from Bogo advising her not to bother coming for info on the interrogation. Lawyers were gumming up the works.

“I'm telling you,” Nick said when she relayed this news to him, “if they just abolished all lawyers, that guy would have been off to prison in under two hours.”

The joke drew a laugh from Judy, but her mirth died quickly. They still had most of the day ahead of them, and without fresh info from Jesse their means of determining where Obearon might attack were limited. Even if there had been a rhyme or reason to the past attacks, having a new mastermind to deal with would have thrown all of that out the window. With a load like that, the bomb, the gun, and the threat on her mind, _and_ no leeway to discuss it with her best friend, it was hard to be patient with jokes.

_This stinks,_ she thought to herself, furrowing her brow. _This really, really stinks._ Nick might be an inform _ant_ rather than an inform _ee,_ but he was also her friend. More than that, he was her partner, badge or no badge, and had been since they dealt with the start of this case over three months before, even if only informally. Yet here she was, keeping secrets... and there wasn't a blessed thing she could do about it.

_'You could just tell him,'_ argued a voice in her head. _'It's not like he can’t keep his mouth shut.'_

She shook her head. _Not with his chances of becoming a cop on the line. If we're both officers, then we can ditch the secrets. Besides, what's he going to do if he doesn't pull this off? Go back to hustling... no, he wouldn't do that. Especially not now that he_ knows _he can find legit work with-_

“Hey, HEY!”

Jerked out of her fuming, she only just noticed the red light in time to step on the brakes. “Aaaah!”

Passing drivers stared as the cruiser screeched to a halt. Once she was sure they were no longer moving, Judy looked over at Nick. He was staring at her with fear written all over his russet face. Not just fear over having nearly wrecked, but fear for _her._

“Carrots, are you okay?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Yeah, I'm fine. I just... I'm fine.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied. “And if I believe that, you'd like to offer me a great deal on the Bucklyn Bridge. Do you need me to drive?”

“I can't let you do that,” she answered testily. “You're not a cop.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Clearly, he wasn't too happy about the remark either. “Well we're working on that, ri-?”

A horn blared behind them, informing them that the light was green again. Judy resumed driving, this time keeping her eyes on the road. Her heart, however, was all over the place.

“Sorry,” she uttered. She shouldn't be treating Nick like this. He was her friend, after all, and no more to blame for the situation than she was. Really, if anything he was less culpable. “I'm just...” She paused, then plunged ahead. “Look, if there were things I knew that I wasn't allowed to tell you – important things, I mean – you'd understand that, right?”

He thought about that. “We talking someone's personal life, or is this what you really meant about me not being a cop?”

It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess from his tone that he already knew the answer.

“You not being a cop.”

Nick was silent for a moment before he answered. “Well, would I be bugged about it? Yes, yes I would.” Smiling ruefully, he added, “But I wouldn't blame you for it.” When she said nothing, he took that as an invitation to continue. “Look, I get it. I'm on probation until I prove myself, and the chief hates my guts. I'm used to not being trusted.”

“You shouldn't be, though,” she argued. “And _I_ trust you. I just don't want to mess up your chances.”

“Then that makes it my turn to trust you. Look, if everything was the way it was supposed to be then no one would break the law, and where would you be then?”

Despite herself, she smiled a little. “Oh, probably running my parents' roadside stand back in Bunnyburrow,” she admitted.

“Right. So let's get this case wrapped up and leave old Buffalo Butt without a hoof to stand on, right Fluff?”

Judy snorted, trying to hold back a laugh at the nickname. “You _ever_ let that get back to Chief Bogo,” she chortled, “and he'll have you polishing license plates.”

Nick grinned. “Well, now you and I are keeping information from him. Even?”

She nodded, her high spirits back again. “Very.”

Meanwhile, in a darkened apartment elsewhere in the city, a ringing phone woke up a certain female. Groaning at the interruption of her slumber, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hello,” said a low-pitched, familiar voice. “Sorry to wake you.”

“I'm sure it's important,” she replied. It was always important; nobody called her if it wasn’t.

“Yes. I need to switch you over from your current duties. You'll be... monitoring an investigation being conducted by Officer Hopps and her associate.”

The female, rising and stretching her long, lithe figure, nodded. “Nick Wilde, you mean?”

“Yes, him in particular. Make sure everything goes as it should. The stakes are high, and we can't afford any slip-ups.”

She nodded. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow morning, first thing. Sorry I couldn't give you more notice.”

It was impossible to tell from his tone whether his apology was sincere or not, though the fact that he apologized at all was unusual in itself. She nodded, tucking the phone between her shoulder and ear so she could adjust her alarm clock. “Understood, sir. I won't let you down.”

His answer was as grim as any guillotine. “I know you won't. Goodbye.”

She finished adjusting her clock, then considered her options. Going right back to sleep would never do, since it would make it harder to adjust to the upcoming changes. After some thought, she got up and dressed. As long as she had to change her sleep cycle, she might as well go for a jog and do some shopping. For such an abrupt switch, she’d have to pick up some sleeping pills.

_And espresso,_ she added mentally, rubbing an arm across her eyes. For keeping tabs on the ZPD’s newest hot shots, she was going to need all the help she could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after that little pause, the case is back on! I was actually going to focus more on the investigation, but I decided this one had a good stopping place – so you'll have to find out what's next another time. Will they be able to solve their dilemma and crack the case? Will Obearon strike before they're ready? Will Ben make it to the end of his bet without going to the happy hotel? Last but not least, who were those two on the phone? Well, true to form, only time will reveal the answers – with a vengeance.
> 
> As always, thank you to everyone reading this.Just a few quick notes about the world-building for anyone curious. Everything I wrote about chiropractic care is true. I had to guess on the ZPD's medical policies since my summer job doesn't have me regularly in touch with cops like the three-seasons one does. Everything else, though, is accurate or as close as the Zootopia world allows. On the part about Kirk having an elephant for a partner, my thinking was they could solo patients at the farther ends of the size spectrum, and work together on those in the middle. I debated between Saturday and Sunday for the timing of this particular bit, and ultimately went with Saturday because (for those who don't know) Ginnifer Goodwyn is Jewish. Not sure if Judy follows suit or what it would be called in Zootopia (Eweish? Shrewish? Gnuish?), but the Saturday off seemed appropriate.
> 
> Also, just for anyone wondering about that little scene at the precinct's front desk, I promise I'm not going to ship Judy with Ben in this story (although someone did mention the idea as a joke). Consider it an expansion on Benjamin's personality – of which there is more to come, btw – and of the camaraderie between him and the active officers like Judy.
> 
> Easter Eggs  
> Lilo and Stitch  
> Back to the Future  
> Celebrities


	15. Someone Get The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues, our heroes return to Judy's apartment... and encounter an explosive development in the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a bunch to everyone for following this story. I've gotten kind of slack with updating, but rest assured I haven't forgotten you all!
> 
> btw, I should explain something which I neglected to explain when I first posted this on fanfiction.net. Are the chapters about side plots such as Nick's dates with Taelia a deviation from the story? Well, yes... and no. If I told you everything now that would be too much information, but Taelia and her band are eventually going to become crucial to the plot. However, if I waited to reveal them until their time in the spotlight, then you would all just be going, "Okay, um, who are all these random characters who are suddenly important?" So, as in real life, you're gonna have to get to know them to see why they're important.
> 
> Explanations aside, happy reading!

**Back into the chamber turning,**

**All my soul within me burning.**

**Soon again I heard the tapping, something louder than before.**

“ **Surely,” said I, “Surely that is**

**something at my window lattice.**

**Let me see then what thereat is, and this mystery explore.**

**Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore.**

**'Tis the wind, and nothing more.”**

_**The Raven,** _ **by Edgar Allan Poe**

 

Somewhere on the car ride, Nick's stomach let out a rumble. “Ah, dang,” he groaned, his paws straying to his middle. “I knew I should have had a bigger breakfast.”

Judy's amusement turned to mild embarrassment when her own stomach interrupted her mid-chuckle. “I guess we'll be eating lunch a little early,” she suggested.

Nick shrugged carelessly. “Pick a place?”

She shook her head. “I can't afford to eat out every day,” she pointed out, “and you'd better save your cash.”

“Oh, yeah,” Nick muttered, remembering with chagrin that he really wasn't sure what kind of deal he might have to make to settle his taxes.

“Tell you what,” Judy suggested, taking a detour. “I think I still have some of leftovers in my fridge from the last time you dropped by. We can stop there and decide what to do next.”

Nick grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

He should have hidden his expression. “And _stay out_ of my _stuff,_ ” she added, pointing an index finger at him.

He gave her a fake-bored look. “Carrots, you suck the fun out of everything. Are you sure you're not a vampire bunny?”

She opened her mouth and drew back her upper lip, giving a good view of her front teeth and a playful hiss. “Wouldn't you like to know,” she teased. As a matter of fact, she had played a darn good vampire one Howloween when she was ten. Her mother had been… less than happy.

* * *

When they got to Judy's apartment, however, the first thing they did was to find a box sitting outside the door.

“Oh, a present from a secret admirer?” Nick teased.

Judy gave him a smile which was half sincere and half dripping with sarcasm. “I can always look Taelia up in the database and send her some info on you,” she sing-songed. Then she turned to the box, which was sealed with the kind of packing tape with cris-crossing threads running through it. It was tall enough to reach her chin, and wide enough that Nick could have stretched out behind it and been hidden from view.

“That's funny,” she muttered, looking over the package. “No postmark or return address, and...” Suddenly the fur on the back of her neck bristled, and her nose began to twitch. This was straight out of her textbooks from the academy. It didn't _smell_ suspicious, but that would be easy enough to cover up.

“Nick,” she said in a voice suddenly much closer to a whisper, “back away, nice and slow.”

Nick caught onto her tone at once and heeded the warning with but one word of question.

“Bomb?”

“I think  so,” she whispered. Training took over. “I'll tell the neighbors to evacuate. You get out of here and call the ZPD – _now.”_

Their whispering was more out of dread than any effort to go unheard, which was just as well. Their attention was so fixed on the box that Nick didn't even notice they had company until he turned and dashed off... straight into the landlady.

The armadillo didn't even notice. With her beady eyes fairly popping behind her glasses, she stared from Nick and Judy to the package.

“Did you just say 'bomb'!?” she exclaimed, her nasal voice loud and clear in the quiet hallway at a volume none would have guessed she could reach.

Judy gestured with her paws for quieter speech. “Yes, and if you don't mind, I'd like to-”

The armadillo screamed and instantly curled herself into a ball, but the damage was done. Down the hall, a bison cow poked her head out of an apartment door, her shaggy hair dangling down in curls as though she had been caught midway through tidying them up. “Did someone say there's a bomb?!”

“Wait! Please!” Judy yelled, waving her paws and hopping up and down to get her neighbor’s attention. “We're not sure what it is, but if you could just calmly leave the buildi-”

“BOMB!” screamed the bison, bolting out of her apartment and towards the nearest staircase. Her deep mooing voice and thundering hoofbeats resounded up and down the hall as she fled for the exit.

The effect was immediate. At the shout, other animals poked their heads out, saw the package, and poured out of the building like it was on fire.

“Wait! Stop!” shouted Judy, but it was no use. Utter panic had consumed Pangolin Arms.

Suddenly she felt Nick grabbing her by the arm. “Never mind going around,” he said, yanking her clear of an antelope’s hooves. “Let's get out of here!”

* * *

To the ZPD's credit, they responded pretty darn quickly to the prospect of a bomb. It took them only five minutes to get there, and only a bit longer to confirm that everyone in the building was out.

Unfortunately, the press was similarly quick to respond.

“No, I have no comment at this time!” Francine shouted to a cluster of reporters, waving her ears like two banners. Much to her displeasure, she was one of the cops assigned to crowd control – and on the whole, she would very much have preferred dealing with the bomb. “Please stay back folks! We are doing the best we can here and-!”

“Hey!” yelled someone. “Is that Officer Hopps?!”

Amidst her neighbors, Judy's ears dropped and she tried to make herself scarce. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of anywhere to go in the crowd where her uniform wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb. Even her small size was little use for concealment in a sea of mammals actively looking for her.

“Officer Hopps?” asked someone else. “Where?!”

“Over there! I could swear it was her!” shouted the first one.

As several mammals armed with notepads and microphones swarmed in Judy's direction, Nick spotted an opening. “Come on!” he hissed, grabbing Judy by the arm and hastily pulling her through the space in a giraffe's legs. The towering mammal never noticed, and fortunately neither did a pair of hippos as the much smaller duo crawled on all fours through the considerable space between one's feet and the other's.

“Always knew all that flab was good for something,” murmured Nick.

“Hey! I heard that!” yelled one of them. However, before the outraged creature could get a lock on Nick, he and Judy were well away in another part of the crowd.

After navigating the labyrinthine crowd, they finally managed to make their way to the edge of an area cordoned off by the ZPD for interviewing witnesses with some degree of privacy. At the moment, Chief Bogo was questioning the bison cow who had first set off the panic.

“So you were the first one to recognize the presence of a bomb?”

“No, I got it from Mrs. Armadiio,” answered the cow, gesturing to the landlay a short distance away. A tiger cop had wearied of trying to coax the landlady out of her shell and was now trying to pry her open, thinking that perhaps she couldn't hear him with her armor plating closed. Instead, she snapped shut after he'd made only an inch of progress, leaving him to stifle some unbecoming language when she trapped two of his fingers in the process.

“Um, actually,” Judy called, slipping past the line of officers with one paw raised, “I was the one who first found it. It was left outside my apartment door.”

Bogo turned, ready to tell her to wait her turn when he realized who was speaking. “Hopps?” he asked, raising his brows for an instant in surprise before they scrunched back down in displeasure.

Judy stopped and put her arms to her sides. “Yes, Chief.”

Chief Bogo turned to the cow. “That will be all for now,” he told her. “We'll get a full statement when we need it.”

As the bison left, Bogo turned forbiddingly to Judy. “So,” he asked, “what happened here?”

“Well, I went to return to my apartment – _after the adjustment_ ,” she added as an afterthought, “and I found a suspicious package outside my apartment door.”

“I see.” Bogo had one eyebrow raised. That was never a good sign. “So from there, you decided to throw the entire apartment building into a panic, is that it?”

“Uh, I hate to argue, but no, that wasn't me. I was going to go around and advise everyone to leave in an orderly fashion – with a gas leak or something like that as a cover story – and I quietly told N- uh, told _one person_ to call the ZPD about a _possible_ bomb.”

Alas, for all his other faults Chief Bogo was not gullible. “I suppose this one person was the fox.”

Judy wanted to smack herself in the face, but resisted the urge. “That's not the point, Chief. What's important is that Mrs. Armadiio heard what I said, and she repeated it loudly enough that the bison you were just talking to heard it, and _she_ started the panic.”

Bogo regarded her unpleasantly. “I see,” he said slowly.

“Chief,” Judy went on, knowing how this looked, “I know this looks bad, but Nick had nothing to do with this mess. If you're going to-”

“Save it,” Bogo interrupted. “Right now we have bigger problems to worry about.”

As if on cue, his radio crackled to life. _“Bomb Squad to Relay,”_ said Wolfard's distorted voice. _“Do you copy? Over.”_

Bogo answered. “Relay here. I copy. Over.”

“ _Yeah, we checked out the package. Over.”_

“What's the situation? Over.”

“The package is full of papers,” Wolford replied.

Judy felt ill. _You have got to be kidding me…_

“ _It's all Greek to me, but it looks like records; sales and production, or...”_

This time, Judy did not resist the urge to facepaw as Wolfard gave his report. _I am going to_ kill _that skunk!_ she thought furiously.

Bogo had obviously figured out the same thing she had. “Working from home, Officer Hopps?” he asked sardonically.

Judy's face was burning, but she tried to salvage such dignity as she could. “For the record, she didn’t get my address from me,” she asserted in her defense.

“Noted.”

Chief Bogo's radio crackled. _“Chief?”_

“Yes, Bomb Squad. Leave the package up there and pack everything else up. Relay to all units:: false alarm. There is no bomb. Over and out.”

He returned his radio to his belt, letting out a weary sigh as he did. Then he turned his eyes on Judy. “Hopps...”

Judy gulped. “I take it you want the package up there for me to go through?”

The buffalo nodded. “Make this worth the trouble. I don't care how, but make this amount to something.”

She gave a weary salute, then headed off into the crowd to find Nick.

Bogo gazed after her. “So much for avoiding a panic,” he muttered.

“Carrots! Over here!”

Judy flicked her ears towards the sound, then scanned the crowd. It only took a moment to spot Nick's waving paw, and a quick bit of ducking and weaving brought the rest of him into view.

The fox was the very picture of one impatient for news, with his arms angled out to the sides and his ears back with uncertainty. “So, what happened?”

In answer, she grabbed his paw and began towing him toward the nearest door leading into the building. “I'll explain... as soon as there's nobody in earshot.”

Nick jogged to keep up with the bunny's rapid, aggressive strides. “Sensitive information?”

Her tone was one of barely suppressed fury. “No, just a chance of language I'm not supposed to use in public.”

 _Yikes,_ he thought, cringing to imagine what could tick her off that way.

Once they were inside, going up a little-used back staircase, Judy filled her friend in on what had happened. Somehow she managed to explain it without saying anything regrettable… barely.

“Ouch,” he sympathized as they reached her floor. “So, what do we do now?”

She unlocked the door and began pushing the box into her apartment, past Officer Wolford. The fellow officer lent them a paw and tried without success to reassure the irate rabbit that false alarms were nothing to sweat. She thanked him mechanically, then shut the door so quickly that she almost got Nick's tail caught in the jamb.

“Whoa, whoa,” he protested, yanking the extremity out of harm's way. Feeling slightly paranoid, he held it close a few seconds longer than necessary. “You got something against my tail?”

“No!” she snapped. Then she caught herself. “I mean... no.” She took a few deep breaths. “Sorry, Nick. I'm just... _rrgh_ , I can’t _believe_ this _._ ”

She was so tense she flinched for a moment when his paw descended on her shoulder. Then, reluctantly, she relaxed and looked up.

“Look, Carrots,” he advised, “it doesn't take a brain like either of ours to know she did this to mess with you.”

Judy looked away, not in much of a mood to be reassured. “Well, it worked,” she replied. Then she pulled away, bothered not only about the false alarm, but about the reason why it was such a big concern. “Come on, let's go through these files and find something we can stick to that skunk.”

Nick could feel the hostility radiating off of her as she opened the flaps (which Wolford had closed out of courtesy) and pulled out a folder. For a long moment he could only stare as she went to her bed, jumped up, and began leafing through.

 _Something tells me that skunk bugged the wrong bunny,_ he thought to himself.

* * *

Although Judy had eluded any tries for an interview, there was no hiding the fact that she lived at the place which had received such a scare. That was due in part to the big mouths of her next-door neighbors, and in part to fleeting glimpses people had managed to catch of her as she was running up to talk with Chief Bogo. Naturally, where the ZPD refused to give details, the media was more than happy to make up their own.

So it was that on that same evening, news outlets of every medium were blasting the story, leading three mammals around the city to read the same headline: **Officer Judy Hopps Hit with Bomb Threat.**

In the Moonbeamers' basement, Taelia got a shock when Vicky brought it up and asked if she thought Nick might be involved. Even after learning that no one had been hurt and the situation had been resolved, she was unsettled through the whole practice session and vowed she would not sleep that night until she had talked with Nick on the phone. Nicole, meanwhile, picked up on Taelia's unease and vowed she would not let the vixen get home that night without 'a good girl talk.'

Over in TudraTown, Vanya laughed to herself – a sound which usually meant trouble of some sort or other. She had a feeling that whatever the facts of the incident might be, Nick was mixed up in it somehow. As problematic as such a turnaround might be on the surface, a vixen like her could use such situations to her advantage. After all, if he ran into too many such problems, he might reconsider his career options. If not... well, she knew him well enough to make things difficult if he ever came after her. In the meantime, she had business to sort out. Mr. Big had called, telling her and the other Angels to be ready for an infiltration run on a place in Meadowlands.

In the Poisson mansion, the author of the whole stunt shook her head. She had expected some sort of reaction to the unmarked personal delivery – carried by the paws of a very capable employee – but she had also expected a trained police officer to keep a better lid on it than that. Of course, Officer Hopps would be sure to come after her more aggressively in the near future. For the moment, though, the skunk could at least have a chuckle over the snafu while she waited for the next move in their little battle of wits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the bomb was a bust, but what's the outcome? How is a snafu like this going to impact the ZPD's image and mission? What's Judy going to do to settle accounts with Miss Poisson? For that matter, where the heck is Obearon, and when is he really going to strike?
> 
> Hope I didn't keep everyone waiting too long. This was a chapter I'd been waiting to do for some time, and although I wasn't able to include many Easter Eggs, but I did put a lot of thought into the details. I think you'll all be surprised as the case continues to unfold and everyone's part in it is gradually revealed.
> 
> On a side note, I thought about having Olivia put in an old-fashioned alarm clock so the package would audibly tick, but decided that would make it too easy to slap charges (no pun intended) on her. No easy-to-catch villains in this story; I'll promise you that.
> 
> The “Sword of Hamocles” is a reference to a Greek fable called “The Sword of Damocles,” which is a bit lengthy to explain here but well worth looking up.
> 
> Once again, my deepest thanks to everyone for tracking and reviewing this little creation of mine.
> 
> Easter Eggs  
> Looney Tunes


	16. Mystery Within a Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While our heroes reel from the chaos of Poisson's fake bomb, elsewhere in the city an innocent talk between two females brings Nick some surprise encouragement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back for another chapter. This time my editors were Hawktooth (who really wasn’t concerned with remaining anonymous) and JrRangerScout.

“ **Better that I devote myself to study the other great mystery of the universe: women.”**

**Doc Brown,** _**Back to the Future II** _

 

It has been said that people are unsolvable riddles by themselves, and yet groups of them can be predicted with mathematical assurance. Such was certainly the case in Zootopia on the evening following the bomb scare. Judy had not planned to spend hours on end making herself cross-eyed over countless forms. She hadn’t planned to drag Nick into the same drudgery either, but there they were. Yet for the rest of the city, life went on more or less as normal save for idle gossip. Even the rabbit's neighbors, who had fled in a panic, were little disrupted save for missed shows, interrupted phone calls, and one or two ruined dinners. At the end of the day, they probably put themselves out more in coming by her apartment to joke or complain about her 'bringing her work home with her' than the scare itself had done. Sadly, sense and reason often matter little to someone who feels they have a grievance. Indeed, many times there is an especially strong link between the absurdity of the complaint and the strength with which it is made.

Elsewhere in the city it was much the same. For example, as a pair of reddish-furred females walked home together so far as their routes overlapped, few passers-by would have guessed or cared about their worries. Even those who recognized them from past strolls along that particular route would not have been very likely to notice a change in their demeanor. The lights from store signs they passed by bathed them in shifting colors as they discussed the bomb scare, nearly as calmly as any other pair might compare and discuss plans for a day off from work.

Although Taelia had been rattled at first, by the time in question she was not particularly unsettled by the turn of events. The familiarity of band practice had given her mind time to settle on the fact that her initial thought process of, 'Bomb. Officer Hopps. Nick!' had been mistaken; silly, even. She had almost brushed aside the idea of calling him about it at all, but she hardly saw a simple mistake as a reason _not_ to call him.

Her companion was not quite so impassive. Nicole, who worked at the hospital as a Physician’s Assistant, had met her share of police officers. Sometimes she found them asking for information about someone's injuries. On mercifully rare occasions, they turned up as patients themselves… or worse. She could tell by the vixen's demeanor that the prospect of Nick being in real danger at later dates had not yet sunk in. Her kinder side was glad for this, but the practical side of her mind could not shake off the risks of such naivete. She knew it might make it more painful if the worst came calling down the road.

Taelia, for her own part, had some idea that her friend was concerned about her. She couldn't have been friends with Nicole Tailbott for nearly a decade without knowing that much, even without a female's intuitive powers. Part of her appreciated it. She always appreciated knowing someone had her back, but she wasn't exactly a kit. She liked her independence, and there were times – on occasion – when Nicole could get just a tad nosy.

All the same, Taelia had never had an interest in mind reading and wouldn't have known how to start anyway. So to penetrate the uncertainty about her friend’s real thoughts, she spoke up during a lull in their other dialogue.

“So,” she asked, stepping from the green glow of one neon sign into the yellow of another, “what did you _really_ want to talk about?”

Nicole shrugged, a blue light seeming to emphasize her uncertainty. “Well, it's about the news article. You know that if Nick makes it into the ZPD, he's probably going to run into other stuff like this. It's probably not _always_ going to be a false alarm.”

Taelia stopped in the glow of a red sign, and Nicole instinctively stopped alongside her. The vixen looked up, not sure how to take this last remark. “So...?”

Choosing her words carefully, the taller canine said slowly, “I’m just saying that you should probably be careful.”

“Careful as in safety?” asked Taelia, folding her arms dubiously, “or is the one who spends her free time sitting with terminal patients at the hospital going to warn me about risky attachments?”

Nicole sighed, getting the distinct feeling that she had put her friend on the defensive. “I'm not saying it’s a bad idea,” she replied, raising her paws. “Believe me, I’m glad you found a guy like Nick. Heck, if I weren't happy with Willy I'd envy you for hooking a catch like him.”

Taelia was a little miffed at this suggestion, and at the fact that her friend seemed to be arguing in two different directions with no particular destination in mind. “He’s a bit on the small side for you,” she pointed out. “If you were in full makeup, people would mistake him for your kid.”

“Hmm, yeah,” Nicole admitted, reflecting briefly the size differential between herself and Nick. She had nothing against shorter males or shorter species in general, but it would be kind of awkward to step on one’s date. “But that's not the point.”

“Then what is?” asked Taelia, resuming the walk.

Nicole took her cue and followed doggedly. “Well, I'm just trying to make sure you're ready to go about this the right way. I mean, I know you've had it rough in the dating department. Something tells me that you're, well... looking for a guy who you can really respect and who will balance you out; emotion-wise, I mean.”

Taelia pondered that for a moment. She had, of course, thought about what she wanted in a relationship. The trouble was that, like far too many mammals, she had never given the matter lengthy and serious consideration. For that matter, she had given even less to _why_ she wanted what she wanted. Now that the matter _did_ come up, Nicole's remarks seemed uncomfortably dead-on.

“Okay, so let's say I _am_ looking for balance and a guy I can respect. What's wrong with that?”

Nicole waved a paw, pads up. “Nothing, unless it's _all_ you're aiming for. I mean, take me and Willy. He's a big encouragement, especially when... well, when my work gets hard.” Willy – or William to most other mammals – was a Meowxican coyote whom Nicole had been dating for some time. Taelia had met him on a few occasions, and she thought the two of them made a good couple. Nicole’s social habits at the hospital had put them in touch, although the circumstances had – of course – delayed any actual romance.

Unfortunately, knowing the basis of Nicole's love life did little to help Taelia make sense of hers. “So what are you getting at?”

As the females moved into an area with less neon and more conventional lighting, Nicole shrugged again. “Mostly that it has to go both ways. Willy needs support too. That's how he and I got together in the first place.”

Taelia didn’t know the full details on that part. A while back Nicole had told her – by accident – that she’d met Willy through work. It was safe to guess that someone close to the coyote had died, so Taelia – wisely – had not asked for more details. To that day, she was pretty sure the red wolf never discussed it with anyone else.

Nicole continued. “He’s managed to get through what happened back then, but even the everyday stuff can be trying. He and I both know that his job's not as emotionally or mentally taxing as working in a hospital, but he still has days when he needs me to prop him up. I think you need to think about that with Nick too, especially because his job's going to be really tough. There's no way police work is easy for anyone, but as a fox he's really going to be fighting uphill on this.”

The speech certainly gave the vixen pause. It crossed her mind that Nicole was probably ceding to Willy’s view on the part about her own job being more taxing. Working with mammals and even children who were living on borrowed time couldn’t be easy, but Willy was a high school teacher. That couldn’t be the easiest job in the world either. Turning her thoughts inward, her immediate one was that she had never set out to sponge off someone else for confidence. The idea that she would do so was, honestly, a little insulting. That was to say, it _would_ have been insulting from most mammals, but she knew Nicole too well for that. If Nicole said she approved of something and then pointed out problems, it could only be because she wanted to see it work as she had said. In Taelia's own very confident estimation, the red wolf's honest nature and genuine heart simply didn't allow for anything else.

It seemed as though Nicole sensed her thoughts. “Listen, I'm not saying you're being selfish. We all need someone to hold us up now and then. It's natural, and it's good, but it can be easy to get drawn into thinking too much about what you want if you're not careful – and believe it or not, I've done that. If you want a relationship to work, no matter who it's with, you need to look at both sides of it and focus on what you should bring to it.”

“Well, I always try to be encouraging,” said the vixen. “At least, I never try to tear a guy down.”

“Oh, I know. Look, I'm not saying you’re not doing things right so far. I'm just saying it would be good to…” Nicole paused, choosing her words. “To be more _intentional_ about it, I guess is what I’m trying to say.. _Look_ for ways to build him up. Trust me; that'll work wonders on the right kind of guy – and girl to girl, I think the right kind of guy.”

Taking a deep breath, Taelia nodded assent. “Okay,” she admitted, “so I guess when I call him I should try to back him up?”

Nicole's tone in answering was a few shades brighter than before. “That would be a good start.”

“Okay. And... thanks.”

The she-wolf smiled warmly. “Glad to help.”

At that point, Taelia decided it was time to change the topic – especially as she’d been meaning to pick her friend’s brain on another subject. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to get your opinion on something – medically speaking. I came across an article about some research; someone found a way to use sound to stimulate…”

The conversation drifted on, leaving Nicole satisfied that her work was done.

* * *

 After the ladies parted ways, Taelia replayed Nicole's advice over and over again in her mind until she was settled in back at her own apartment. It was well that her friend had advised her to think of what she herself could bring to the table, for at heart she _wanted_ to make others happy. Besides, she was a bit of a worry-wart down deep, and having something to do made it a lot easier to stay off that track. This was not at all an accidental result of the little sermon she'd just heard. Nicole was tenderhearted, but shrewd; more than shrewd enough to know the value of a well-placed nudge.

_Okay,_ she briefly contemplated. _Back him up. Let him know I'm rooting for him. Got it._  

* * *

Over in his own apartment, Nick was exhausted. He and Judy had gone over those records with little mercy for the papers or themselves, and his brain was pretty well tapped out. From the time they entered that apartment, he and Hopps had been up to their necks in paperwork. It was exhaustively thorough, and meticulous enough to make him more than take back any and every quip he'd ever made about the mental faculties of farmers. He dimly remembered wondering if it was done so intricately with the specific intention of discouraging thorough examination – or maybe it was Judy who had said that. He also seemed to recall something being said about the strong chance that Poisson, being both a genius of her chosen sciences and a control freak, was simply all about details. In the long and short of it, he was now cross-eyed and felt like he had been trying to decipher instructions for building a flying saucer; instructions encrypted in Llamajo Code and transcribed with the Hamskrit alphabet.

Absently he smacked his lips, and the taste of his supper came back to him. After he had polished off his own leftovers from their earlier takeout, he had accepted a helping of Carrots for One so as to leave more time for going over the forms. That had yielded pretty much the only definite thing he learned that day: despite being in his thirties, he still hated vegetables.

Now, slumping on a couch in his dog cave, he was trying to heal his brain – or at least anesthetize it – with some music from the Beagles. At least, he was pretty sure it was the Beagles. Suddenly he heard a jingle coming in that sounded distinctly more recent.

_Sounds like 'Vixen,'_ he thought dimly, before realizing it was his cell phone. He toyed with the idea of letting it go to voicemail. After about six straight hours of helping Judy in an intellectual duel with Poisson, he figured he'd had enough of females for the day no matter how much he liked them.

On the other paw, he had often found time with a female – disconnected from his day job, of course – to be a great tonic for a troubled mind. Well, okay, troubled _conscience_ in times past, but if one overlooked that _one_ vixen it had always been effective enough to get him through to the next day.

_Beep._

“Hello?”

Taelia opened her mouth, only to realize that she hadn't really thought about how to begin. “Hey,” she greeted, feeling pretty self-conscious. “Heard things got pretty interesting today.”

“Interesting?”

“Well, the news is full of Officer Hopps getting a bomb threat.” She hesitated. “Um, were you involved in that?”

For a moment, Nick just sat there in silence. “Bomb threat?” Hours of digging through paperwork in vain had proven so mind-numbing that he'd almost forgotten the initial chaos caused by its arrival. “Oh, that. Well, no one actually made any threats. It was just an unmarked package left at her door. More of a joke than a threat.”

Taelia was stunned. “A _joke?”_ she repeated, half-wondering if she had heard right and half running off with what she was pretty sure she’d heard.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he affirmed, not catching the sudden edge in her voice.

She was, understandably, incensed in no small degree. Her collected, prepared demeanor began to erode like a sand castle meeting the first waves of high tide. “What kind of idiot would _do_ that?!” she demanded.

He shrugged. “One with a lot more money than you or I will ever have,” he remarked glibly.

That remark pulled her up short. “Wait, what?”

Nick's brain caught up with his mouth. “Aw, nuts. No, uh, forget I said that. I'm not supposed to talk about those kinds of details.”

“Why, because whoever did it is rich? I hope they're in lockup right now!”

The conversation was rapidly getting out of paw. “No, Taelia, wait. It's not that simple.” He tried to think of how best to explain it, and found himself at a loss. As much of a mess as had already been made of things, he didn't want to risk making more trouble by spreading word about the situation. Judy was already in enough of a pinch, and if the day's events hadn't caused her enough trouble to divulge any information to him, then secrecy must be vital. As peeved as he was that Judy wouldn't open up, he couldn't betray her confidence.

His silence, evidently, unsettled the vixen. “Nick?”

He sighed. “Listen,” he said, “I... can't really tell you everything right now. Maybe later, but right now it's all part of the investigation.”

Over at her end of the line, Taelia bit her lip. A stunt like that made her stomach churn, and all the more since she had begun to more fully appreciate what Officer Hopps did. Sure, her only actual encounter with the cop had been a narrow escape from a traffic ticket, but that _was_ her job. Besides, Nick was part of that too – and Nicole’s remarks on the doe’s behalf a few days before had not failed to leave an impression either. Really, she had Judy to thank at least as much as Nick for the fact that she could walk the streets without being feared and shunned. Well, feared and shunned more than usual, anyway.

_'So I guess when I call him I should try to back him up?'_ her words from the talk with Nicole echoed back to her. She took a deep breath. _Forget the jerks. Look for a way to build him up._

“Okay,” she conceded both to him and to the pricking of her own conscience. “If you say so.” Then, casting about for a topic less likely to be locked up tight, she ventured, “Is there any rule against telling me about yourself?”

Nick hesitated, for in seeking a topic he might discuss freely she had inadvertently struck on the very subject into which he was wariest of delving. Fortunately, he knew pretty well how to guide such conversations away from his shadier side. “What, you mean like hobbies, favorite movies…?” he prompted under a guise of venturing.

“Mmm… hobbies,” Taelia answered, brightening.

“Well, let me think.” Nick pondered for a moment, as if hesitating lest he tell too much. He had often found that such a pause piqued listeners' interest, much the same as preceding something with, 'I really shouldn't tell you this.' “Sometimes I like to design roller coaster tracks.”

Taelia sat up a little straighter. “Really?”

“Yeah, just for the heck of it. When I was a kid, I used to use Linker Toys and whatever else I could get my paws on to make little model tracks.”

This drew a laugh from the vixen. “Oh, I'll bet you were cute,” she said. “What kind of rides did you make?”

“Oh, basic ones at first. Ferrits Wheels, things like that. Then I tried to figure out how to make a roarer coaster jump the track, go airborne, and land on another track.”

Taelia snorted humorously. “What, you mean like a toy car track?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Hmm. I'm guessing Wild Times didn't snap up the blueprints to that one. Do you still have the models?”

“Uh, no.” This was getting uncomfortably close to his family history. “No, I stopped building model tracks a long time ago. I still doodle now and then, but it's nothing to write home about.” He decided to try changing the subject. “What about you?”

“Me?” She shrugged. “Well, let's see. Cooking, jogging, and sometimes I sing.”

“Really. Anything with the band?”

She shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I actually started out wanting to be a singer. That was my first big dream when I was a kit, but when I joined a garage band in school none of the others could get the sound system to work. So, poof, I discovered my gift.”

“Hm. Well, I guess it worked out. You ever think about doing something onstage?”

She blushed. “Well, not so much, no. Maybe one of these days, but I'm happy enough where I am.” Actually the truth went a little deeper than that. Outside of church choir, every time she had tried singing in front of a group she got light-headed with stage fright.

She decided to send the ball back his way. “Speaking of finding niches, how's it going with getting into the department? You can talk about that, right?”

He shrugged, supposing that this at least was a ZPD-related matter he could discuss. “Not bad,” he replied. “Wouldn't you know, I've even got a buddy who works there in the computer department.”

This piqued Taelia's interest. “Really? Well, that's great. What about the higher-ups?”

Nick chuckled. “Eh, let's just say I'm looking forward to proving them wrong.”

Hearing this, she winced. “That bad, huh?”

He shrugged. “Oh, you know. Fox this, fox that, yadda yadda.”

Taelia huffed, sticking her tongue out a little and wondering if all of society was so full of distrust toward their species. “Well, they've got a surprise waiting for them, then.”

The confidence with which she said it surprised Nick. He had been thinking the same thing himself, and it was clear that Judy hadn’t lost faith in him either, but for all that he was still taken aback. _If I’d known I could get this many people cheering me on,_ he thought, _I might have tried this cop thing a long time ago._ When he spoke, however, it was his hustler side that did the talking. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, “but I think it’s going to take more than good looks to pull this off “

Taelia blinked at his audacity, then smiled. “Well,” she answered, grabbing the first fitting answer to come to mind, “I happen to think you’ve _got_ more than good looks.”

“Maybe I do,” he answered calmly, “And maybe I’m fishing for compliments.”

For just a moment, Taelia was irked at the reynard's vanity and cheek. The flare-up faded as quickly as it came, though. A vixen had to know how to take a joke. “Sneak,” she groused in a somewhat flirtatious tone.

Nick yawned, as much for show as out of fatigue. “Well, I'd better turn in,” he said, smacking his lips. “It's been a long day, and I've got a lot to do tomorrow.”

She smiled. “Sleep well,” she advised. “By the way, when you see Officer Hopps tomorrow, could you tell her I'm rooting for her too, and that we all are?”

He nodded despite it being a phone call. “Sure,” he agreed. With the kind of aggravation Judy was facing, she could probably use all the encouragement she could get. Another yawn – this one strictly involuntary – escaped his mouth. “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Nick ended the call, pondering the conversation as he made ready for bed. The case, it was true, was looking pretty rocky. He seriously doubted that they'd find anything incriminating in the records sent to them by Poisson. Even if they didn't, though, it was a cinch that they'd get some other break. He had two officers – three, counting Ben – in his corner, his own wits and network of contacts. Now – novelty of novelties – a pawful of ordinary citizens was actually rooting for him. It was almost like having a fan club. Heck, with the way things were going he might try running for mayor if the ZPD didn't pan out.

The thing that continued to bug him, besides how to get the break they needed in their case, was that Taelia seemed too attached to settle for just a few casual dates. If he was reading her at all correctly (as he usually did with the ladies), she wouldn’t take it well if the day came that he said he wanted to see other vixens. Granted, he'd had little trouble letting down past girlfriends, but she... well, he couldn't help thinking that she deserved more consideration than that. She was so _genuine;_ so _supportive._ The talk with her had been just the remedy he'd needed after the day he'd had, but it had gone deeper than he’d been expecting. It had been more than just a distraction. She had really wanted to help, and in a way she _had_ helped.

Well, he supposed he could handle a few more dates with her than he'd usually stuck around for. Goodness knew rough days would be a given with the places he was going. It wasn't like she was looking for matrimony or anything like that – and if that did come up, he could just say he wasn't ready. It would even be true.

_Stop over-thinking it, Nick,_ he told himself with a rueful smile. _Just give yourself a break once in a while._

That last thought jogged another in his mind about how tense Judy had been when they parted ways. If there was anyone who needed a break, it was her.

_Hmm..._ he thought as something took shape in his mind. _I just might be able to help with that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. :) I know a lot of readers find these deviations from the case a little trying, so I think it's only fair to drop a little information now. Part of the reason I wanted to write this story, and those to follow it, was to take a look at the civilian side of police work; its effects on everyday people and vice-versa. In this case, the main point would be that law enforcement – and for that matter every other branch of public service – is not a job done on an island. As the son of an ambulance volunteer (who is in some respects the inspiration for Nicole), I know firsthand that behind everyone who keeps the world together is a network of people holding them together.
> 
> Purely on a side note, I guess this is as good a time as any to advance a headcanon about the fact that, though domestic dogs don't exist in Zootopia, there is apparently a band called the Beagles (a la Beatles), as seen in Judy's music collection. My guess is that they have stories about dogs, but they are regarded – at least among canines – much the same way as we in this world might regard stories of fairy folk. I draw for this, in part, on the fact that genes in human beings similar to those linked with domestication in animals have been linked to an uncommonly kindly demeanor and elvish characteristics. This has nothing to do with the story, but I love to delve into myths and legends. I am nerd. Hear me jabber.
> 
> To the Guest reviewer on the last chapter: Thank you. I thought it seemed like a good way to bring Poisson back into the action. For all the deviations, she is still Judy's main suspect, and I figured I should bring that back around in a fashion that suited her attitude. As to her being a practical joker, she’s the kind of character who – as hinted at the end of that chapter – likes it best when she has the upper paw and everyone knows it. Most pranks are better natured than this one was, but I think there is always something of a battle of wits at work in that kind of thing (I speak from some experience). Anything to cloud her opponent's judgment, then, would be to her advantage as she sees it. Besides, even a villain has to have some fun now and then, right?
> 
> Easter Eggs  
> Another Looney Tunes reference
> 
> And for anyone wondering, Llamajo Code = Navajo Code (a method of encryption used by the US military), and Hamskrit = Sanskrit, an ancient language. The mention of Ferrits Wheels is a playful blending of Ferris and Ferret (duh), and both the name Wild Times and the term Roarer Coaster are borrowed from early Zootopia material.
> 
> Keep those faves, follows, and reviews coming! Chapter 15 set two personal records for me, I think: most reviews on a new fanfic chapter, and most thorough review received (courtesy of JrRangerScout).


	17. Friends and Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amidst an overload of work, Nick decides to have a little fun with Judy. Alas, crime waits for no fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter proofread by Hawktooth and JrRangerScout. Anyone know where winerp is? I hope he’s OK.
> 
> Incidentally, it looks as though “Who's On First” was deemed public domain by the Supreme Court after the precise kind of lawsuit certain people have been trying to scare me about. So I’ll open with a quote from that and let those certain people chew on it while the rest of you enjoy the story.

**Mr. Dimwitty: “Tomorrow throws the ball and the guy up bunts the ball.  Now when he bunts the ball, me being a good catcher, I wanna throw the guy out on first, so I pick up the ball and throw it to Who?”**

**Mr. Broadhurst: “Now that's the first thing you've said right.”**

**Mr. Dimwitty: “I don't even know what I'm talkin' about!”**

**_Who's On First,_ ** **by Abbott and Costello**

 

After at least fourteen hours of poring over the information Poisson had sent, Judy was getting frustrated.  Even with Nick's help, she couldn't find anything useful.  Everything was accounted for: flowers planted, flowers harvested, total weight of the blossoms, concentrate acquired, concentrate purity... she was usually good at math, but her head was spinning.  Nick was faring little better.  For all his years disguising scams as legitimate business, even he had to admit that if there was something buried in the paperwork, it was more than he could dig up.

“Now let's see,” Judy reflected, sorting through piles.  “This one's from September... wait, I looked at that.  Which of these piles have I...?  Rrrrgh!”  The bunny groaned and smacked her forehead on the desk.  “We've been over all this stuff _five times!_ ” she erupted.  “There's _got_ to be something we're missing!”

Although Nick had been doing a lot more than just watching her give herself ulcers, he was pretty sure that alone would have left him exhausted.  Nor had he been slouching in his efforts to help, and to top it all off he had been trying – in vain, of course – to ease Judy's mind.  His endeavors on this last front included telling her about the upcoming concert, passing along Taelia's vote of encouragement, a couple of suggestions that some fresh air might clear her mind, three subtle pryings for some reason why she had been so tense _after_ they actually started making headway with Jesse's capture, and a very calm remark that he thought her tail might be on fire.  These had yielded, respectively, two rounds of “that's nice,” a “not now” and an, “I said not now,” three variations of, “just trust me,” and another “that's nice.”  He was tempted to make some remark about her missing the point of a day off, but suspected that this would be ill-advised... and possibly result in a bruise shaped like a rabbit's fist.

There _was_ another option he'd been holding in reserve, but with all his other methods falling short, he decided he might as well pull it out.  “You know, Fluff, it's been my experience that when you're stuck with something you _don't_ know how to handle, it helps if you step back and tackle some problem you _do_ know how to handle.”

She gazed at him wearily.  “Like what?” she asked.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper.  “Well, a friend of mine asked me to give you his phone number.”

Judy's nose twitched, and one of her eyebrows went up.  “Okay, how is _that_ a problem?”

There was no need to mask a smirk.  If anything, Nick had to work not to laugh.  “Well, don't tell me you've never told a guy you weren't interested.  A cute doe like you must have had to do that at _least_ a couple of times in high school, right?”

The impact on Judy's frayed nerves was so electric, she didn't even take the time to reprimand him about the 'c' word.  “What?  You want to pull me away from a case because some guy...?”  She couldn't even finish, but could only stare at his calm expression.  “Nick, what's wrong with you?”

He shrugged.  “Hey, it was just a thought.”  Looking at her with half-lowered lids and an incorrigible smirk, he added, “Too bad, though.  Kev's a really nice guy, too.  Be a shame to make him wait for a simple 'no thanks'.”

Judy wavered, and then sighed in resignation.  Nick had no idea what she was up against, but maybe it _would_ help to take her mind off the case just for the space of one phone call.  With slow reluctance, she nodded to the fox and held out a paw in a 'give it here' type of gesture.

“Atta girl.  Here's the phone number,” he told her, writing it down and putting it into her paw.  “I need to, uh, take a walk anyway, so you'll have privacy.”

She watched him go, then gazed at the scrap of paper.  It wasn't _his_ number, so at least he wasn't setting her up for some prank.

 _'Kev's a really nice guy,'_ Nick's voice echoed in her mind.  _'Be a shame to make him wait for a simple 'no thanks'.'_

She sighed, picked up her phone, and punched in the number.

* * *

 

Over in an outlying bit of Sahara Square, a gray wolf sat at a computer clicking his mouse and tapping keys like a mammal possessed. On screen, a character in black leather armor exchanged sword strokes with something that looked like it hadn’t seen daylight or a bathtub in a few hundred years.

“Let's see how you like this,” he remarked to the undead freak, readying an attack.  Before he could use it, however, his phone rang.

“Agh,” he muttered, letting off a half-charged attack and hitting the pause key.  He picked up the phone.  “Hello?”

A female voice emerged.  _“Hey, um… is this Kevin?”_

“Yeah, speaking. Who are you?”

If Judy’s smile had been any more strained, her face would have cracked.  _“This is Judy.  Judy Hopps, I mean.  Nick said you asked him to give me your number?”_

 _Judy, Judy..._ “Oh, Judy!” he exclaimed, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.  He had not, by any means, forgotten his friend's teasing remark after the sting.  “So Nick gave you my number.  Good.”  _Man, this is awkward,_ he thought. 

* * *

Over on her end, Judy felt pretty awkward herself.  While Nick had guessed right about her telling guys she wasn't interested before, it was usually a buck about whom she had at least a _little_ information.  This was more like a blind date for a breakup – and to make matters worse, his voice at least _did_ sound nice.  That wasn't much to go by, of course, but it was all she had at the moment – which, of course, was half the problem.  _Just like Nick to bail when I made the actual call,_ she thought.  “Uh, listen, Nick didn't tell me a whole lot about you; just that you're a nice guy...” 

* * *

Kevin smacked a paw over his face.  _I... am going... to_ kill _that fox!_ he thought.  It didn't help that to his all-but-paranoid ears, Judy sounded interested but nervous – which, of course, was more or less what he'd been worried about after what Nick had said the other night.  All the same, he forced a grin.  “Well, there's not a whole lot to tell, I guess.  Just your average wolf who works with computers, I guess.” 

* * *

  _A wolf?_ thought Judy.  _This is his idea of how to unwind?  Telling me to call a strange wolf just to tell him I'm not interested?_   Much as she didn't have against wolves in general, her concept of a fun date usually didn't involve talking to the guy's kneecaps.  With Oscar-worthy effort, however, she managed – barely – to keep her annoyance from creeping into her voice.  _This isn’t his fault. This isn’t his fault._

“Oh, okay.  Well, Kevin, I'm really flattered, but I'm kind of busy lately – you know, with a big case – and I really don't have the time to see anyone right now.”

He sounded pretty confused, for the very excellent reason that he _was_ confused.  _“You don't?”_

When he spoke, he had let out a breath in confusion and some relief.  She mistook that for dismay.  “Yeah, I know.  I'm sorry to break it to you, but being a cop is tough, and I really don't have the time-”

 _“Wait, wait, hold on a minute,”_ Kevin cut her off.

“There's really not much else to say,” she argued.  She hated it when guys dragged these things out.

 _“No, no,”_ he persisted.  _“That's not what I mean.  Judy, I wasn't going to ask you out.”_

She blinked.  “You weren't?”

 _“No!”_   Realizing that his vehemence could come across as an insult, he hastily amended, _“I mean, I'm sure you're nice, but I asked Nick to give you my number because I work for the ZPD's tech division.  I just wanted us to be able to keep in touch in case you needed fast access to my department.  That's all.”_

Now Judy was confused.  “Then why did you seem so bugged about me not wanting to see you?”

 _“Me?_ I _was bugged because I thought_ you _were calling to ask_ me _out.  Nick said the other night that...”_

Like a bolt of forked lightning, the realization hit them both at the exact same instant.

“NICK!” 

* * *

Out on the fire escape, Nick knew that the time had come to make himself scarce.  Closing out the recording app on his phone, he pocketed the device and jumped onto the railing, sliding down like an expert skier.

He should have been a little quieter.  Closing the call and pocketing her own phone out of habit, Judy was after him in a flash.

“Nick!” she shouted, scrambling out the window, “Get your brush-tailed butt up here right now!”

A voice from next door sounded through the aperture behind her.  _“Oh, just make out already!”_

Much as she wanted to catch the fleeing fox, she stuck her head back in for one brief announcement.  “You're next!” she yelled, and raced after Nick.

It was a pretty tight race.  Nick had the lead, and in his time as a con he'd had to flee down fire escapes a fair number of times.  Judy, on the other hand, had a sharp edge in natural agility as well as her ZPD training.  To her, the whole descent was like one big jungle gym.  The bottom level clinched the race.  Slipping out the rail of the next level up, she dropped, caught a paw on the floor as she shot past, and whipped around to a perfect landing smack on top of Nick.

“Ow,” he groaned weakly when he could breathe again.

“Phone, please,” she said with a triumphant smile.

Before he could hand over the device, however, her own phone rang.  With an annoyed groan, she pulled it out and answered the call.  “Can I call you back in a second, Kevin?” she asked.  “I'm a little busy.”

The voice on the other end stopped her cold.  _“No, and my name's not Kevin.”_

“Chief!”

_“Yes, it's me.  I want you at the old community center on the double – and bring that fox”_

She wondered what could be behind the sudden summons... and then it hit her.  There was only one reason Bogo would call her like this.  “We'll be right over,” she promised, and hung up.

Nick was still on his stomach underneath her, and now he was confused as well as stunned – not to mention in pain.  That tended to happen when mammals landed on him like that.  “Two questions,” he said weakly.  “What was that about, and does it mean you’ll get off me now?”

She jumped off and pulled him upright before making a beeline for the ladder.  “I'll explain on the way!” she promised.  Order of silence or not, she had kept her mouth shut long enough – and now it was too late.

* * *

Three quarters of an hour before, the Zootopia Community Center had been a bustle of activity as mammals prepared for the concert.  With the grand event just ten days away, the main mover and shaker behind it – a maneless lion by the name of Regis Killrahb – wanted to put everything through a test fit to make sure nothing was amiss.  With his knack for event arrangements being second only to that of Olivia Poisson herself, he found plenty worth amending.

“Move those tables to the right, please.  We've sold more tickets to elephants than we expected, so we'll need better access.  You there, how high can we make those temporary balconies?  We want the smaller guests to be able to see what's going on.  Now, where is Miss Ship-?”

“Mister Killrahb!” called a white-tailed deer, weaving through the crowd with the agility typical of her species.  Decked in coveralls and a toolbelt, she sprang over a rather indignant squirrel and landed in front of the lion as effortlessly as if she’d been wearing a gymnast’s leotard.  Erika Shiptine was the contractor he had hired to oversee the electrical concerns of the upcoming concert.  The community center was an old building, and its wiring was long overdue for renovations.  A full rewiring would have been too costly and time-consuming, so the financiers – represented by Killrahb – had offered the city council a compromise.  In exchange for expediting the concert, the financiers would cover the cost of an initial assessment for later rewiring.

“Miss Shiptine,” Killrahb greeted, clasping his paws with a cordial smile.  “Is all going well?”

The deer shook her head.  “I'm afraid not.  The system you bought in is all wrong.  It won't work.”

“Won't work?” echoed the lion, surprised.  “But I checked the papers myself.  It's the one I ordered.”

“Well whether it is or not, it won't do the job.”

Killrahb hummed.  “Show me what the trouble is, then.  Perhaps we can work something out.”

She shrugged, none too fond of novices trying to negotiate with what she knew for a fact.  It wasn't as if cut-and-dry electronics could be haggled up or down like a price.  Still, Killrahb was decent as the upper crust went, and he _was_ paying.  “This way,” she waved with a tired sigh in her voice.

The system she showed him drew power from several parts of the building in an effort to avoid overloads.  At its hub, amidst many cables, a computer was set up to control the flow of electricity for lighting, speakers, and other necessities of the event.

“Now,” asked Killrahb, “what exactly is the problem?  Is there danger of any one wire drawing too much, or- ack!”  He swatted at the back of his neck.  “Hm.  Better arrange some pest control for the... event.”  He stared at his paw, which was smeared with a pasty blue substance, and a cold dread fell over him.

“Dear Heaven,” he murmured in a raspy whisper as his throat went dry with fright.  He'd seen the news broadcasts, and even with his mind beginning to slip, he _knew_.

Miss Shiptine stared at him.  “Mister Ki-?”

“Run!” he ordered through clenched teeth, doubling over and grasping his head.  _“Run!”_

Unadulterated horror swept over the doe as she realized what she was seeing.  Without another syllable of protest, she fled.  “Night Howler attack!” she screamed to all within hearing.  “NIGHT HOWLER ATTACK!”

While the electrician's cries spread panic and disorder among all in hearing, the truth of the matter was already worse than any could have imagined.  Left to his own devices, Regis Killrahb's thrashing had thrown him into the mess of wiring.  By the time he got loose, thoroughly in the drug's sway, the system had begun to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse... you know, never think it can't get worse. What's going to happen? Who fired the shot? (hint: it wasn't Doug this time) Perhaps strangest of all, what does Bogo want Nick for?
> 
> Sorry for the delays, which is to say sorrier than usual. I was expecting to bang out the next few updates in pretty quick succession, but met with several delays. On the flip side, JrRangerScout brought something else up which made me realize I could stand to flesh out an upcoming point of the story, so I'll be writing another chapter. I'll keep it short, but to whet your appetites I'll offer this teaser: another OC who's been hiding in the wings will be making a reappearance, and it won't be friendly.
> 
> The Easter Eggs are fairly straightforward. One which I will give away right now is that Erika Shiptine is a modified version of the name Erik Shipton, the first western man to climb Mount Everest and the one who brought legends of the yeti to Europe. This is not a gender-bend, but rather possibly a descendant of the Zootopia-world explorer (don't ask me what would pass for yetis in that world; I have no idea and it's keeping me up at night). The “tine” part, of course, is a deer pun.  
> The other Easter Egg – which some of you should guess with ease enough – is the game Kevin was playing.
> 
> Someone who got a sneak peek at this chapter suggested, jokingly, that Judy and Kevin might actually end up as a couple now that Nick is seeing someone. Well, I hate to kill the hopes there, but it’s not going to happen (as funny as that would be to show to the real Kevin, who happens to be my younger brother).
> 
> Until next time! *salutes*

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to let me know what you think! :)


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